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PEN PICTURES 



OF 



POPULAB ENGLISH PREACHERS, 



PEN PICTURES 



OF POPULAR 



ENGLISH PREACHERS 



WITH LMNINGS OF LISTENERS IN CHURCH 
AND CHAPEL. 



AUTHOR OF "PEN AXD INK SKETCHES OF 
AUTHORS AXD AUTHORESSES," &c. 



4h* 



A NEW AMD ENLARGED EDITION. 




LOND OS: 
PARTRIDGE AND O A K E Y. 



, 



^ 



PREFACE 



These Pulpit Portraits will, it is hoped, 
convey to the mind's eye of the reader, vivid 
and correct ideas of the various individuals 
whom they are intended to delineate ; they 
are by no means to be considered as finished 
Pictures, but it is well known that mere out- 
lines are frequently quite as effective as the 
most elaborate efforts of the Artist. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds, it has been said, never 
painted a likeness without drawing a picture 
also ; following, at a most respectable distance, 
so illustrious an example, I, too, have sought 
by the aid of " accessor! es" to heighten the 
effect of these Pen-and- Inklings of mine, 



X PRE FACE. 

Whether I have been "happy" in my like- 
nesses, or otherwise, it is not for me to con- 
jecture ; the Public must decide — but of one 
thing I am certain — that I have endeavoured 
to place my " Sitters" in a fair light, and to 
sketch each and all of them with a truthful as 
well as a " free pencil*" 

J, D- 



CONTEXT S. 



PAGB. 

The Rev. John Cumniing, D.D., of the Scotch Church, 

Crown Courts London . . . .13 

The Rev. William Jay, of Bath ... 29 

The Rev. James Parsons, of York . . .45 

The Hon. and Rev. Baptist W. Noel, M.A., of John 

Street Chapel, London . . . . 58 

The Rev. Hugh M'Xeile, D.D., of Liverpool . . 82 

The Rev. Joseph Sortain, M.A., of Brighton . 97 

Sketches and Reminiscences of the Bristol Pulpit : — 111 

The Rev, Thomas Winter . , . .117 

The Rev. John Jack . . . .121 

The Rev. Henry Isaac Roper . . . 125 

The Rev. John Liefchild, D.D., of London . ISO 

Wesleyan "Celebrities." — A May Meeting Sketch in 

Exeter Hall : — , . . . .145 

The Rev. Robert Newton, D.D. . . 151 

The Rev. Joseph Beaumont. M.D. . . . 15S 

Pulpit Poets :— The Rev. Drs. Dale, Milman, and Croly. 
— Geology and Theology : — Dr. Buckland : — • . 167 
The Rev, Dr. Dale . . . . .168 



XI 1 CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Dean Milman . . . . . 175 

The Rev. George Croly, D.C.L. . . . 178 

The Rev. William Buckland, D.D., Dean of West- 
minster . . . . .184 
The Rev. John Campbell, D.D. . . .187 
The Rev. Alexander Fletcher, D.D. . . 200 
The Rev. A. 0. Beattie, D.D., of Glasgow, with a 

Reminiscence of Dr. Chalmers . . . 210 

The Rev. Thomas Raffles, L.L.D., of Liverpool , 222 
The Rev. Francis Close, M.A., of Cheltenham . 239 

The Rev. Dr. Candlish, of Edinburgh, with glances 
at the Vicar of Harrow. — The Rev. J. W. Cun- 
ningham, M.A., and the Rev. James Hamilton, 

D.D 252 

The Rev. Thomas Binney, of London . . 264 

The Rev. John Angel James, of Birmingham . 274 
The Rev Henry Melville, M.A., and the Rev. Joseph 

Wolfe, D.D. . . . . .289 

The Rev. Dr. Pusey, with some contemporary notices 299 
Cardinal Wiseman, and the Rev. W. J. E. Bennett 318 
Father Gavazzi . . . . .338 



PEN PICTURES. 



THE REV. JOHN CUMMING, D.D., 

Ob' THE SCOTCH CHURCH, CROWN COURT, LONDON. 



Who does not know, either by repute or from 
personal observation, that enormous building 
which casts its broad shadow across Drury 
Lane, and which looms up like a Titan from 
among the dark dingy buildings by which it is 
surrounded I Who, as he gazes upon it, does 
not call to mind that within its walls the 
greatest histrionic triumphs have been achieved, 
and that in its atmosphere the brightest con- 
stellations of the firmament of dramatic genius 
have arisen, shone with dazzling splendour, and 
have either gradually declined, or been suddenly 
quenched in darkness? The place is rich in 



14 , REV. JOHN CUMMING, D.D. 

associations. There Kemble charmed by his 
eloquence ; there Kean revealed Shakspeare's 
conceptions by the lightning-flashes of his own 
genius. There Siddons started, and O'Neill 
unsealed the fountains of tears ; and there, too, 
a host of other great actors and actresses, who 
are now seen no more, have fretted their u hour 
upon the stage." Fire, more than once, has 
desolated this great Temple of the Drama; 
but, Phoenix-like, it has each time arisen from 
its ashes ; and " Old Drury," shorn indeed of 
its ancient glories, still remains a home alike 
for the expositor of Shakspeare, and the 
equestrian of the circus ; a place where, on one 
night, Hamlet soliloquises ; and, on the next, 
the clown elicits deafening applause by that 
" daring act of equestrianism," the riding on 
his horse's tail ! 

But, reader, we are not at present bound for 
the theatre. At the first glance it may seem 
strange that we should have commenced our 
sketch of a renowned Minister of the Gospel 
by a reference to a play-house ; but, as we 
desire in this volume to give some idea of places 
as well as of persons, we have taken Drury 
Lane Theatre as a sort of landmark, which 
may indicate to those at a distance the precise 



REV. JOHN CUMMIXG, D.D. 15 

locality of another building, to which we shall 
now more especially refer. 

It is the morning of the Sabbath. From 
scores of church towers sound forth the 
" church-going bells," and we. with thousands 
of others, hurry along the streets towards one 
of the many hundred places of worship, which 
deck, like oases, the great moral metropolitan 
desert. Leaving the Strand on our right, we 
enter Covent Garden — its market-place now 
silent, and almost forsaken ; and crossing that 
far-famed locality, we cross Bow Street, pass 
under the colonnade of the Theatre, and then 
half-way through it. step over the narrow strip 
of road-way and enter Crown Court. A 
stranger might pass the entrance to this obscure 
thoroughfare a hundred times, and never sus- 
pect that a building of any magnitude was 
within a dozen yards of him : but were he to 
lift his eyes, he might perceive, overhead, an 
inscription informing him that there was 
situated Crown Court Church. 

We enter the court, and the Scotch Church 
is on our left hand. As a building it has few 
claims to architectural consideration, being of 
no particular order, but rather of all the orders, 
so blended, that the distinctive features of no 



16 REV, JOHN GUMMING, D.D. 

one can be made out. The gallery stairs 
are outside the front, presenting rather a 
curious appearance ; but limited space, we 
presume, occasioned the unsightly arrangement. 
However that might be, w T e must not stay to 
speculate upon it : hundreds upon hundreds 
are passing up those stairs, and squeezing into 
the side doors: and "the cry is, still they 
come." — Carriage after carriage is setting 
down its freight of fashion ; cab after cab 
drives up, from which gentlemen hurriedly 
leap, and make their way to the door of the 
edifice, and an unbroken stream of pedestrians 
flows in from either end of Crown Court. 
Watch for a moment the countenances of the 
Church-goers : there is as much curiosity and 
anxiety depicted upon them as might be 
witnessed in the faces of the impatient multi- 
tude who throng the doors of Old Drury on 
the first night of a new piece. And well may 
such interest be evinced ; for this morning one 
of the most renowned preachers of the day is 
to preach on an all-absorbing topic. Cardinal 
Wiseman has sounded forth his trumpet-note 
of Eomish defiance, and now the Protestant 
champion is about to enter the lists. 

We at last enter the Scotch Church. It is 



EEV. JOHN GUMMING, D.D. 17 

a large oblong building ; a gallery, deep and 
commodious, running round one of the long and 
two of the short sides — the pulpit being placed 
in the centre of the other long side. The only- 
national emblems to be seen are the thistle- 
shaped ground glass shades of the gas-lights, 
and a thistle or two in the painted glass 
windows. In all other respects the place 
resembles an English dissenting chapel. 

How densely the church is crowded — and 
how aristocratic appears the congregation ! 
We are prepared for the Equality," by the 
glimpse we just now had outside of luxurious- 
looking carriages, with strawberry-leaved coro- 
nets on their panels. Let us, before w T e speak 
of the minister, glance for a moment at his 
congregation ; for, sitting quietly in some of 
the pews, are men of mark. 

Near the pulpit, on its left side, and in a 
secluded place under the gallery, sits a gentle- 
man and lady, with two little children. The 
gentleman is of diminutive stature ; his head is 
large, and thinly covered with dark brown 
hair, which carelessly sweeps across his capa- 
cious forehead ; his eyes are keen and cold, 
the nose longish, and slightly turned up at its 
point, the mouth thin-lipped and compressed; 



18 REV. JOHN CUMMi\Cr. D.D. 

two apologies for whiskers appear just below 
the prominent cheek bones. As a whole, the 
countenance is indicative of intellectual ac- 
quirements, but it wants energy of expression, 
or rather the expression of energy. There is 
something of insignificance about it. But its 
owner is no insignificant personage ; for the little 
man who sits so quietly in that shaded pew. is 
the Prime Minister of England — Lord John 
Russell, and those who sit beside him are his 
wife and children. 

Not far from the Premier is to be observed 
a gentleman, tall and robust-looking. His face 
is florid and plump. He resembles a well-to- 
do country gentleman, rather than a member 
of the titled aristocracy. Nevertheless he is a 
lord. It is Lord Ducie. an amiable nobleman 
enough, we believe, but who is not likely to 
rival Brougham. He is a regular attendant on 
Dr. Gumming' s ministry. We might point 
out many other noticeable people, but that 
would be travelling out of the road, perhaps ; 
and, indeed, by the spontaneous rising of the 
congregation, and the sudden bursting forth of 
harmonious voices, we are reminded that the 
service has commenced. 

"Beautiful exceedingly" is the singing at the 



REV. JOHN CUMMING, D.D. 19 

Scotch Church. There is no organ ; but it is 
evident that the choir requires not the aid of 
that king of musical instruments. Never have 
we heard better congregational singing than at 
Dr. Cummings ; all may easily join in it, and 
indeed all present did, at least so it seemed to 
us. Clear and distinct in its silvery sweetness 
was one female voice, which reminded us of 
that of Jenny Lind ; and, we have since heard 
the lady to whom it belongs is generally known 
as the Nightingale of Crown Court Church. 
Long, say we, may she warble thus deliciously, 
and in some humble measure prepare us, while 
on earth, for joining in the far more 
melodious, and never-ceasing anthem of the 
skies ! 

The psalm of praise and thankfulness has 
ceased — the congregation is seated, and the 
minister of the place ascends the stairs which 
lead to the pulpit. He is the " observed of all 
observers." Every eye is fixed upon him ; but 
on his assuming the attitude of prayer, each 
head is bowed, reverence banishes curiosity, 
and a deep solemn hush pervades the place. 

The prayer commences. It is an extempo- 
raneous one, and, as all prayers should be, it is 
deeply fervent and devotional. We have, 



20 R£V. JOHN GUMMING. D.D. 

before now. been absolutely disgusted with 
some exercises of this kind ; for there are 
ministers whom we could name who have a 
vile habit of talking at God. instead of praying 
to him. They exhibit a familiarity when ad- 
dressing the Deity which illustrates the fact 
that 

" Fools rash in where Angels :"-.- . -_ :: b 

and which painfully affects many who hear 
them. John Foster, one of the profoundest 
thinkers of the age, pointedly refers to this 

practice, and severely reprobates it in his Essay 
;; On the Aversion of men of taste to Evangeli- 
cal religion." Dr. Cumming's prayer was a 
model of its kind ; there was no tiresome repe- 
titions — no daring approaches to the Divine 
presence — no presumptuous requests. All was 
solemnity, humility, and devotion ; and the 
fervent aspirations of the Creature to its Creator, 
The prayer is ended. Another hymn has 
been sung, and the preacher rises to commence 
his discourse. But before he does so, let us 
occupy a moment or two in sketching his por- 
trait, faithfully as may be. with pen-and-ink. 
as he now stands in the sacred desk. 



REV. JOHN CUMMING, D.D. 21 

The preacher is of the middle height, perhaps 
rather above it, but attired as he is in clerical 
robes, one is apt to be deceived in such a 
matter, which, after all, is not of any great im- 
portance if we agree with Dr. Watts, that the 
"mind is the standard of the man." Dr. Cum- 
ming's face is a remarkably fine one. A glance 
at it might convince any ordinary observer 
that it belongs to one whose mind is not of the 
common stamp. Look at that high, broad fore- 
head, across which, dark, very dark hair sweeps, 
revealing the ample temples; and behind that 
barrier of bone, you will feel assured is a brain 
of uncommon capacity. We are no great be- 
lievers in the speculations of phrenology, and 
regard, without exception, those wiseacres who 
parcel out the brain-field as they would a 
potato-patch, as sumphs ; but we know that in 
a well-formed and capacious cranium may 
generally be found the true mental coin, which 
rings as well as shines. Such a head has Dr. 
Cumming, and sterling is the golden store 
wdiich is coined in the cerebral mint. Two 
eyebrows, large, well-arched, and black, over- 
shadow a pair of dark eyes, of a serious and 
fearless expression. The nose is slightly 

aquiline — but not large, and on it perpetually 
b 2 



22 REV. JOHN GUMMING, D.D. 

rests a pair of spectacles, from which we may 
infer that much study has somewhat impaired 
his visual organs, however much it may have 
sharpened his critical perceptions. Some one 
has said, and I think with truth, that the mouth 
is a far more expressive feature than the eyes. 
In Dr. Cumming's case such is the fact : the 
upper lip is thin, but well shaped, the lower 
one somewhat fuller than its fellow. The 
feature is very expressive ; at times a half- 
smile plays upon and around it, but it generally 
has a tinge of melancholy about it, and in repose 
it is indicative of deep thought. The com- 
plexion of the countenance is dark, and large 
black whiskers form the lateral boundaries of 
the face. Such is the personal appearance, so 
far as we can convey an idea of it, of the cele- 
brated Pastor of the Grown Court Scotch 
Church. 

Opening a little Bible which he holds with 
both hands, Dr. Camming commences his 
discourse, by reading from it his text. Very 
clear and musical is his voice. Although by 
no means loud, it can be heard with the utmost 
distinctness in the most distant part of the 
church ; and consequently, as there is no 
shuffling, and leaning forward to catch the 



REV. JOHN GUMMING, D.D. Zo 

sounds, the most perfect stillness reigns. With- 
out a single preliminary " hem," or a moment's 
pause for the purpose of collecting his ideas, he 
at once commences the elucidation of his 
theme ; and before he has uttered half a dozen 
sentences, it is evident enough that all his 
matter has been carefully arranged beforehand. 
There is not the slightest hesitation ; his words 
and ideas flow forth like a clear continuous 
stream, and they are as transparent too. The 
eloquence of some ministers resembles the 
course of a mountain torrent — now with diffi- 
culty threading narrow ravines — now expanding 
in a calm, lake-like expanse, reflecting the 
loveliness of the skies ; anon rushing and roar- 
ing over precipices and rocky barriers, and 
then dancing in sunlight through verdurous 
plains, and mossy-winding ways. Such orators 
startle by similes, attract by antitheses, and 
charm by variety. Not such is the character 
of Dr. Cumming's oratory. From the moment 
he commences his discourse, until the conclud- 
ing sentence passes his lips, the current of his 
eloquence flows on calmly and untroubled. 
There are no passionate out-bursts — no succeed- 
ing passages of pathos — -little to dazzle — less to 
startle — nothing to bewilder, — all is clear, 



24 REV. JOHN GUMMING, D.D. 

calm, and convincing. With his little Bible 
in his hand, or more frequently in both hands, 
as we before intimated, he generally commences 
by plunging at once into his subject, not by 
making any lengthened introductory remarks. 
His voice, which but slightly informs us of his 
northern origin, is remarkably pleasant, and 
indeed musical. Seldom does it rise or sink 
above or below the key in which he commences 
his discourse ; yet, as might be expected by 
strangers, the effect is not monotonous, for every 
sentence is admirably balanced, each period 
carefully rounded, and almost every tone is 
admirably modulated. When hearing Dr. 
Gumming, one is reminded of the description 
of " Silver-tongued Smith," one of the cele- 
brated preachers of Elizabeth's time. But 
though the subject of our sketch is truly 
" silver-tongued," the solemnity, at times 
almost the severity of his manner, preserves 
him from anything like tameness. Perhaps 
there is not a firmer, or more fearless preacher 
than the Doctor ; a fact which has been proved 
over and over again of late, as his Bomish 
antagonists have found, to their cost. Dr. 
Oumming's manner in the pulpit is pleasing. 
He seldom uses any other action than a gentle 



REV, JOHN GUMMING. D.D. 25 

waving of the hand, or the turning from one 
part of his congregation to the other. He is 
no cushion-thumper, and depends for effect, 
more upon what he says, than on the graces of 
action. Not that he is ungraceful at all — far 
from that ; what we mean is, that he is, in this 
respect, directly the opposite of those pulpit- 
fops who flourish their bordered pieces of in- 
spiration-lawn in the pulpit, and throw them- 
selves into such attitudes, as compels one to 
believe that the looking-glass is almost as 
essential a preparation for the pulpit, as the 
Bible itself. 

Often have we heard Dr. dimming, but 
never without having noticed that he referred 
either to the Apocalyptic mysteries, or to Pa- 
pacy. These are his two great topics. His 
" Sketches" on the former subject must be 
familiar to every reader of Scriptural literature, 
and therefore it will be needless for me to add 
anything on this point, further than that, by 
many able persons, it is considered Dr. Gum- 
ming is mistaken in many of the predictions 
which he utters ; and that his great abilities 
are wasted on mysteries, which, after all, are 
unfathomable by mortal mind. With respect 
to the Roman Catholic Church, he has long 



26 REV, JOHN GUMMING, DJ>. 

been known as one of its most vigorous, con- 
sistent, and uncompromising foes. As a Contro- 
versialist he is truly great. No man can dissect 
Popery so fearlessly, so mercilessly, as can he. 
There is not a web of sophistry, however art- 
fully woven, which he cannot disentangle ; and 
his profound learning, great sagacity, and 
extensive acquaintance with his subject, render 
him the most dangerous enemy which Cardinal 
Wiseman has in these realms. We doubt not 
that his newly fledged Eminence would rather 
encounter the whole Bench of Bishops, than 
the distinguished and bold polemic of Crown 
Court. Indeed, the Doctor has actually bearded 
the Lion of Popery in his den ; for to his dingy 
palace in Golden Square he repaired, and there 
signally discomfited the emissary from the 
Vatican on his own ground. His lectures. 
delivered a short time since at the Hanover 
Square Rooms, on " The Teaching of Cardinal 
Wiseman," were master-pieces of argument ; 
and they were listened to by as splendid an 
auditory as ever assembled in London (men 
who are arbiters of taste, and masters of opinion.) 
with the most profound satisfaction. To crown 
his pulpit triumphs, he has preached before the 
Queen, at Balmoral ; and his sermon on that 



REV. JOHN GUMMING, D.P. 27 

occasion, entitled " Salvation," is now circu- 
lated by scores of thousands, throughout the 
length and breadth of the kingdom. 

Dr. dimming is a very voluminous author, 
but we cannot in this place more than generally 
allude to his writings. His style as a writer 
resembles that of his oral productions. The 
sale of his works is prodigious, and is pro- 
ductive of large sums ; so that, what with the 
salary derived from his rich congregation, and 
the profits of his literary productions, his 
income must be large, and he deserves it. 

We have thus endeavoured to convey to our 
readers, as graphically as may be, some idea of 
Dr. Oumming, both as regards his personal 
appearance, his manner, and his matter. At 
the present time he is the great pulpit u Lion 
of London," just as Edward Irving was some 
twenty years since. — But very different is the 
Doctor to that strange, wonderfully eloquent, 
erratic founder of the sect who believe in the 
" unknown tongues." There could not by 
possibility be a greater contrast : the one, all 
fire, enthusiasm, and semi-madness ; the other, 
a man of chastened energy and convincing 
calmness. The one, like a meteor flashing 
across a troubled sky, and then vanishing 



28 REV. JOHN GUMMING, D.D. 

into darkness ; the other, like a silver star, 
shining serenely, and illuminating our pathway 
with its steady ray. But why pursue the 
parallel ? The brilliant minister of the Regent 
Square Scotch Church long since " passed 
within the veil," doubtless with unsealed eyes; 
and though misled on earth, we doubt not that 
with the Elders he now waves his palm and 
wears his crown. Long may it be ere it shall 
be said of the eloquent subject of the present 
article, " He too is gone P — for the Church 
cannot spare him yet. Undazzled by popularity 
— unaffected by the breath of popular applause 
— he steadily pursues the duties of his calling; 
feeling, as we too feel, that a great work is 
before him. His humility is as genuine as is 
his piety; Scotland may be proud of such a 
son. Hitherto his career has been a splendid 
one, but suddenly a new field for his exertions 
has appeared ; he has boldly entered upon it, 
with an ardour which may be termed the 
chivalry of Protestantism, and on it, perhaps, 
his greatest triumphs have yet to be achieved. 



29 



THE REV. WILLIAM JAY, 

OF BATH. 

That London is the great central reservoir of 
pulpit, as well as of every other sort of talent, 
is a fact that few, I think, will be inclined to 
dispute ; but it must be admitted, that among 
those who occupy the sacred desks in the 
Provinces, are very many great and distin- 
guished men. Foremost among these is one 
who may aptly be termed the Nestor of the 
Pulpit. So, readers, let me sketch in this 
chapter the " old man eloquent" of Bath — 
William Jay ! 

Who does not know the city of Hot Water, 
and of ancient Dowagers — the realm of King 
Bladud — the scene of Beau Nash's trumpery 
triumphs, and the still gay metropolis of the 
West of England ? For considerably more 



80 HEV. WILLIAM JAY. 

than half a century, Mr. Jay has been the 
dissenting "lion" of that particular place, and 
the Rowland Hill of the provincial Pulpit ; 
like the latter extraordinary man, his course 
has been marked by a blending of piety with 
eccentricity. 

Mr. Jay commenced his career in the chapel 
of which he has been a pastor such a number 
of years, in rather a singular manner ; and as 
the anecdote of his first appearance in the 
Bath pulpit is highly characteristic, I shall 
make no apology for relating it here. 

Somewhere in Wiltshire, I believe, was 
situated an academy for the reception of young 
men preparing for the ministry, over which 
establishment presided the Reverend Cornelius 
Winter. Jay, then a young man, but recently 
promoted from the plough-tail by some shrewd 
friend who had pierced through the rough crust 
of the raw country youth, and discerned the 
vein of genuine talent, which ran and sparkled 
underneath, was a pupil of Mr. Winter's, but 
had never made his appearance before a con- 
gregation as a preacher, although repeatedly 
urged to "break the ice" by his preceptor. 

One Saturday afternoon, young Jay received 
a summons to attend on Mr. Winter in the 



REV. WILLIAM JAY. 31 

study. When he entered the sanctum, the 
old gentleman handed him a note, and said — 

" Mr. Jay, the weather is fine, and as you 
have been hard at work ail the week, perhaps 
you would like a ride to Bath." 

Young Jay made no objection, and Cornelius 
Winter produced a note he had just written. 

" This note," he remarked, " I wish to be 

conveyed to the Reverend Mr. , of Argyle 

Chapel ; he lives in the Orange Grove, Bath, 
not far from his place of worship. Please to 
hand this to him, and he will give an answer. 
Remember — you must see him yourself. The 
Bath coach passes the door of the house in an 
hour from now ; so get ready at once, and here 
is the amount of the fore," 

So the student, who had often heard of 
the gay city of Bath, but had never visited it, 
attired himself in the best clothes which his 
humble means afforded — jumped on the Bath 
coach, and with heart and spirit light, entered 
the gay city, and speedily made his way to the 
Orange Grove. The house of the then popular 
minister of Argyle chapel was soon found, and, 
like many thousand other bearers of letters, the 
young man, " indifferent to the tidings he con- 
veyed," knocked at the door, and enquired for 
the Reverend Mr. . 



32 REV. WILLIAM JAY. 

He was at home ; Jay was ushered in his 
study, and delivered the letter from Mr. Winter. 

Mr. deliberately read it, and then calmly 

folded it ; he eyed the young man — and, holding 
out his hand, said, with the most perfect non- 
chalance— 

" Mr. Jay — you must preach for me to- 
morrow. " 

" Preach, sir ! preach for you, sir ! to-mor- 
row morning 2" asked, or rather gasped the 
agitated young man. 

" Mr. Winter has sent you to me for that 
very purpose," observed the old minister ; and 
he added : — 

" To-morrow I am engaged at Bristol, and I 
applied to Mr. Winter for a supply — he has 
sent you. So, as preach you must and shall, 
it is necessary that you should at once make 
some preparation. I am now about to leave. 
Here are books at your service, and every thing 
else you can require. 

Leaving young Jay in a state which many a 
young minister may imagine, but which I will 
not venture to describe ; and feeling com- 
pletely "trapped,* Mr. courteously bade 

adieu to his "supply" for the morrow. 

Left by himself- — thrown upon his own ener- 



REV. WILLIAM JAY. S3 

gies — the self-reliance of the student was called 
into action. He knew that he could not 
"back out" of the matter; indeed, if he had 
been inclined to shirk the sermon, and the pre- 
paration for it, he would have found any effort 

to do so abortive, for on Mr. 's leaving the 

study, he quietly locked the door, and the 
young man was a close prisoner ; so he re- 
mained until the old minister's wife summoned 
him to the tea-table. 

How he was employed during the interval it 
is not necessary to inquire : — let us hear how 
he acquitted himself on the Sunday morning. 

That eventful time came — and Argyle 
Chapel was filled w 7 ith the congregation usually 
assembling there. At the appointed hour of 
commencing the service, the old clerk entered 
the desk from which the hymns were " given 
out,*" looking as though something had mar- 
vellously offended him ; — formal old function- 
aries of his description are very easily offended, 
indeed. He arose, and dolefully read a rather 
lively hymn, which the singers in the front 
pew of the gallery, facing the pulpit, sang to a 
dismal tune. 

While the aforesaid hymn was being sung, 
the good folks of Argyle Chapel were not a 



34 



REV. WILLIAM JAY. 



little surprised to see a young man emerge 
from the vestry, and ascend the pulpit stairs. 
Some of the old members looked vexed at this, 
for there were among them not a few of those 
unreasonable people — (the race of whom is not 
extinct even in these days.) who have an idea 
that if they pay their minister so much per 
annum, they have an undoubted claim to the 
whole of his services ; and that their pastor 
has no right whatever to leave his flock even 
for the sake of recruiting his health, or for the 
purpose of resting his mind by preaching one 
of his old sermons to a fresh congregation. As 
the stranger took his seat in the pulpit, there 
were sundry nods and winks, and contemptuous 
tossings of chins, for " his youth" was against 
the "supply." How could such a "babe"' 
furnish food for strong men S — that was the 
question implied if not asked. Some, not see- 
ing their old pastor in his pulpit, opened their 
pew doors, and went out; — and the great 
majority of those who remained behind would 
have followed such bad examples, had not a 
feeling of shame restrained them. 

Whether or not young Jay noticed the com- 
motion which his appearance excited, is to us 
unknown ; but when the preliminary portions 



REV. WILLIAM JAY. 85 

of the service were gone through, he timidly 
arose, and as soon as the auditory had settled 
themselves down into silence, commenced his 
discourse, by giving out his text. It was one 
singularly apropos to the situation in which 
he had been placed by Cornelius Winter, or 
rather to the part which he had played in this 
trapping transaction. After naming the chapter 
and verse, he paused for a moment, and then 
somewhat astonished his hearers by pronounc- 
ing, slowly and distinctly, the words he had 
selected as the groundwork of his discourse. 
They were selected from the touching narrative 
of Abraham and Isaac, and from that part of it 
where the patriarch is represented as about to 
sacrifice his beloved son. Without, however, 
referring to the context, young Jay simply read 
these words : — 

" And the lad knew nothing of the matter." 
Great w^as the effect, so pointedly were the words 
delivered ; and the youthful, nay, the boyish 
appearance of William Jay heightened the 
curiosity of the congregation as to what would 
come next. They were not left long in doubt; 
for with a gravity beyond his years, the young 
man proceeded to develope his subject, and to 
delight his hearers. There was such an absence 



36 REV. WILLIAM JAY. 

of affectation, that besetting sin of too many 
ministers in the first stages of their career ; so 
little (if any) straining after effect, by essaying 
wild flights of imagination, that even the grim 
old clerk relaxed his iron visage, and the 
ancient members severally looked pleased ; as 
for the young folks, they were positively de- 
lighted ; and more than one fair girl hinted to 
her parent the propriety of exercising the duties 
of hospitality, by asking the promising young 
preacher to dinner. 

This dinner question reminds me of another 
anecdote of Jay's early life. He was once 
invited to dine with an old lady after an anni- 
versary sermon, I forget where ; about a dozen 
sat down to an exceedingly ill-furnished table, 
and the keen eye of Jay detected the shift re- 
sorted to by the thrifty hostess, to make a very 
little go a very long way. He was too fond 
of sarcasm to allow an opportunity for a " dry 
wipe" to pass by, when such offered itself, and 
on being asked to say grace, he arose, andglancing 
half-comically over the barren waste of table- 
cloth, he quoted two lines from a well-known 
hymn, 

"Lord ! what a wretched land is this, 
Which yields us no supply .'" 



REV. WILLIAM JAY. 37 

and then sat down to the Barmecidal feast. 
Nor was the hint lost ; for the lady of the 
house was shrewd as well as saving; and when- 
ever afterwards Mr. Jay sat at her table, it 
was plentifully, if not sumptuously, laden. 

No* very long after Mr. Jay's first sermon 
at Argyle Chapel, he became pastor of the con- 
gregation assembling there, Mr. , his pre- 
decessor, having died. — And there he still 
remains, as attractive as ever, after more than 
sixty years continuance in his sacred office. 
We have sketched him in youth, slightly in- 
deed — let us now depict him as the Pastor of 
to-day ; as the octogenarian soldier of the 
Cross ! 

More, considerably more than half a century 
has passed away ; Bath is a far more quiet 
place than it was sixty years ago. Cheltenham, 
Brighton, and a host of other fashionable places 
of resort have sprung up, and eclipsed the 
Western Spa. BufHes and rapiers no longer 
flutter and jingle in the Pump Boom ; and 
Sydney Gardens, the Vauxhail of the provinces, 
live but in the memories of faded beaux and 
decayed beauties; — but Argyle Chapel (modern- 
ised, it is true.) still remains ; and the voice 
which was heard so many years ago. mellowed 
c 



38 REV. WILLIAM JAY. 

by age, still echoes within its walls. Let us 
enter, and behold, and listen. 

As yet the place is but thinly peopled ; but 
we have not long occupied our seats, before, by 
ones, and twos, and threes, and by whole 
families at a time, the worshippers enter. At 
length the chapel is well filled, and the service 
begins. 

The congregation assembling at Argyle 
Chapel is what may be called a rich one — 
perhaps a fashionable one ; and so, of course, 
everything is quietly and easily done. There 
is very little shuffling of feet ; and only the 
rumpling of rich silks disturbs the stillness of 
the place. The pew-openers are patterns of 
propriety ; not clumsy persons who trudge 
heavily down the aisles, and swing open doors, 
and when you are passed in, bang them to 
again ; — nothing of the kind ; — they walk as 
though their feet were shod with felt; they 
are dressed to the very verge of fashion, with- 
out either coat, bonnet, or flounce — overleap- 
ing the boundary which divides the " hired 
servant" from the unpaid worshipper ; — and 
they bow you sweetly into the pews, accepting, 
with the utmost courtesy, the shilling which 
the procuring a " good seat" for you entitles 
them to. 



REV. WILLIAM JAY. 39 

While you are singing the first line of the 
first hymn, the vestry door opens, and a gentle- 
man, clad in the vestments of his sacred office, 
appears. He ascends the stars with a slow and 
solemn step, holding firmly, yet not feebly, the 
railing of the staircase. Beneath his left arm 
is a large Bible. He is of the middle height, 
stoutly built, and his broadishoulders are bowed 
by age. Gracefully fall the folds of his gown 
about his form, yet withal there is a careless- 
ness apparent in its disposition. He enters the 
pulpit, sits down, and for a time we see nothing 
of him but the upper part of his white head ; — 
but now he rises, and after taking a careful 
survey of the multitude below, he opens the 
Bible, puts on a pair of silver spectacles, and 
presently commences reading. 

His voice strikes you at once — it is rich, 
deep, and musical ; he reads slowly, and with 
remarkable dignity, occasionally lifting his eyes 
from the sacred page, and fixing them earnestly 
on his hearers. The solemnity of his manner 
is in harmony with the majesty of his subject ; 
every word tells ; and as Mr. Jay (for he it is) 
proceeds, every faculty of every listener is 
absorbed in a deep attention to the subject he 
is introducing, whatever that may be. 



40 REV. WILLIAM JAY. 

And now we have a better opportunity of 
observing his head and face, which, as yet, no 
artist has succeeded in transferring to canvass ; 
— I ought to say, rather, that no painter has 
succeeded in depicting the peculiar expression 
which belongs to, and is so characteristic of it. 

There is something in the massive head of 
Mr. Jay, which reminds one, at times, of the 
grand old head of some ancient statue of 
Jupiter ; it is large, and abundantly covered 
with silvery hair, which, sweeping from one of 
the temples, discloses a splendid forehead. 
The eyes are peculiar, being dark, extremely 
bright and lively, and of a most searching 
expression. Eyebrows large, of a darkish grey, 
overshadow these " windows of the soul," as 
some old writer has called them. The nose is 
short, and not classically formed, and the 
mouth is, if anything, a trifle too large for the 
connoisseur in such matters. A double chin 
fades imperceptibly away into a short neck, 
which is connected with, as we before in- 
timated, a broad, expansive chest. 

Taken as a whole, the face is an extremely fine 
one ; and stamped as it now is with the 
radiance of a good old age, few can behold it 
without a reverential feeling. It is capable of a 



REV. WILLIAM JAY. 41 

great variety of expression, and so does it 
change with the changes of the preacher's sub- 
ject, that an intelligent deaf person once told 
me, he " could almost understand Mr. Jay's 
sermon, by the mere looking at him." Deep 
pathos, — genuine humour, — sly sarcasm, — 
biting irony, — or boundless benevolence, are by 
turns indicated. As we sometimes behold on 
a hill-side, now the shifting shadows made by 
the clouds sailing above ; and anon, behold 
bright patches of sunlight, where gloom had 
been but a moment before ; so on the counte- 
nance of the subject of our sketch, the mind's 
varied emotions are alternately depicted, and 
each so imperceptibly blends with the other, 
that, though fully conscious of the changes, w T e 
do not discern the precise moment when those 
fine transitions of thought and expression occur. 
The style of Mr, Jay is one exclusively his 
own. He imitates no one ; and no preacher 
whom I have ever heard, resembles him. 
Usually, he commences his sermons with some 
abrupt, terse conversation, which would seem 
to have little to do with his subject, and which 
sometimes, indeed, has nothing in connexion 
with it. He is not rapid in his delivery, but 
rather the reverse ; his sentences are delivered 
c 2 



42 REV. WILLIAM JAY. 

with great emphasis. His discourses may 
sometimes be almost called conversational, for 
he talks to people as well as at them. Occa- 
sionally he produces a prodigious effect by a 
solemn strain of eloquence, immediately follow- 
ing some remarks which had, spite the sanctity 
of the place, provoked a smile ; • for, as in the 
case of Rowland Hill, he has a flow of wit 
which cannot always be restrained. But he 
never descends to buffoonery, nor profanes the 
pulpit by low jests. Xo man feels more than 
he does, that when in the sacred desk he stands 
on sacred ground. His occasional sermons are 
models of this kind ; at such times, it is not an 
uncommon practice of his, to select rather pe- 
culiar texts — take for an instance, his funeral 
sermon for Rowland Hill, when he chose as the 
motto of his discourse, the words M Howl ! fir 
trees, for the cedar has fallen !" In his own 
chapel, however, he is less remarkable in this 
respect, and I once met with one of his con- 
gregation in Bath, who had not the slightest 
idea that Mr. Jay was remarkable beyond 
his own chapel walls, for his singularity and 
originality. 

On the occasion of Mr. Jay's having been 
fifty years Pastor of Argyle Chapel, a Jubilee 



REV. WILLIAM JAY. 43 

in his honour was held in Bath, and some 
handsome presents were made him. Since 
then his wife has died ; — but, to the great 
offence of some of his people, he, in his old 
age, again led to the altar a wife. Why he 
should have been blamed I know not, nor 
care to enquire. The circumstance, however, 
has, it is said, greatly damaged his popularity. 

Mr. Jay is still as satirical as ever, when he 
chooses ; and this sketch of him may appro- 
priately be concluded by an anecdote, perfectly 
characteristic of the man : — 

Some years since, when the followers of 
Edward Irving were in the zenith of their 
enthusiastic madness, a church was formed at 
Bristol, and great exertions were made by its 
members to convert to the " true faith," the 
ministers of that and the neighbouring cities 
and towns. So popular a man as Mr. Jay 
could not be forgotten by them, and accordingly 

a Mr. C s, one of the " Angels" of the 

Bristol Irvingite Church, proceeded to Bath, 
and called on the venerable minister, who 
asked him who he was, and what was his 

business ? Mr. s informed him in reply. 

that he was an " Angel" from the Irvingite 
Church at Bristol, and that his "mission" was 



44 REV. WILLIAM JAY. 

to induce Mr. Jay to join their body and be 
saved. 

" An Angel !" asked Mr. Jay in astonish- 
ment, for it is not very likely that he thought, 
like one of old, he was entertaining a shining 
one unawares. 

" Yes," said Mr. s, " an Angel, sir — 

an Angel indeed, and in truth." 

Mr. Jay did not smile, but gravely requested 

Mr. C s to take off his coat, which that 

gentleman, somewhat astonished at the request, 
did. 

Divested of his outer garments, Mr. s 

felt Mr. Jay's hands, examining his shoulder- 
blades in rather a rough manner. u Pray, 
what are you doing, sir f~ he inquired. 

" Feeling for your wings V* was the reply ; at 
which the Angel was so wroth, that hurrying 
on his coat, and snatching up his hat, he 
quitted the house, and returned to narrate the 
want of faith in Mr. Jay to his credulous 
brethren and sisters of Bristol. 



45 



THE REV. JAMES PARSONS, 

OF YORK, 

Frequently, at intervals during the last thirty 
years, divers announcements in the metropolis, 
that the Reverend James Parsons, of York, 
would preach, have seldom failed to attract 
crowded audiences. The son of one, and the 
brother of another popular minister, he has 
always been invested with a peculiar interest ; 
but had he stood alone in his ministerial con- 
nexions, he would have gained for himself a 
place in the front rank of English popular 
preachers. 

There is scarcely a large town in these 
kingdoms where James Parsons is not known, 
and where his talents are not appreciated. 
Perhaps no minister has been so much in 



46 KEY. JAMES PARSONS. 

request as the advocate of Religious Societies 
of all kinds, as he. On the platform he is 
scarcely less effective as an orator, than when 
he occupies the pulpit. To give anything like 
a truthful delineation of him, he must be 
sketched in both characters. 

I have in my sketch of Mr. Jay, pourtrayed 
the man as he was, and as he is. Having a 
vivid remembrance of the subject of the 
present article, as he appeared a quarter of a 
century ago, and having, also, had the pleasure 
of hearing him within the last few months, I 
shall adopt a similar course in this instance. 
Let the reader, then, imagine that the stream 
of time has flowed backward in its bed of ages 
for twenty five years or thereabouts, and that 
he is beside me in the midst of a crowded hall, 
at one extremity of which is a platform, on 
which are seated the advocates and officers of 
some one of our great religious societies, on 
the occasion of its Annual Meeting — every 
one knows what kind of spectacle at such a 
time would be presented to the eye, and there- 
fore I shall forbear attempting to describe it. 
— The man, and not the frame by which he is 
encircled, shall be our study. 

Several ministers have already addressed the 



REV. JAMES PARSONS. 47 

vast assembly, but as yet none of the " lions" 
have presented themselves. Common-place 
speeches have been made, but the feelings of 
the hearers remain dormant. Something is 
required to arouse them — to energise them. 
Were the collection made now, the chance is, 
that enough would not be cast into the treasury 
to defray the expenses of printing the "Report.'" 
But now, after two or three resolutions 
have been carried, the Chairman announces 
that the next will be moved by the Reverend 
James Parsons, of York : and instantly there 
is a clapping of hands, and a stamping of feet, 
and a thumping of umbrellas, and universal 
murmurs of " now then," are heard ; and, as 
soon as the din ceases, a gentleman rises, and 
makes his way to the front of the platform ; 
then the clappings, and the stampings, and the 
thumpings are renewed, and are repeated again 
and again, until the good folks' spare enthusiasm 
has escaped through the safety-valve of their 
applause, and a rustling of silks and satins, and 
a confused sound of "hems" and suppressed 
coughings, subsides into a gradual and expectant 
silence. 

" And can that be James Parsons f is whis- 
pered round the assembly, as a young man 



48 REV. JAMES PARSONS. 

steps forward, and slightly bows in acknow- 
ledgment of the approbation his appearance 
has elicited. 

That him ! that thin pale young man, so de- 
licate-looking ; — and apparently so fragile, that 
the very breath of popular applause, which, 
makes the hall vibrate again, might make him 
tremble as he stands. That him ? Yes — there 
stands the young orator, upon whose eloquent 
lips delighted thousands have hung, and the 
slight w T ave of whose hand hushes a mighty 
multitude into silence ; it is James Parsons ! 

But how incapable does he seem of any great 
or continuous effort. Of the middle height, 
and very thin, his frame does not seem fitted 
for the struggle for that fame, which it is evi- 
dent he aspires to, — the fame which a valiant 
minister of the Cross achieves; — the noblest 
renown which can shed a halo around mortal 
brow ! Very pale is the face — it looks as 
though sickness had waved its white banner 
over it, its pale moon-like reflection lingering 
there yet. But how full of expression is the 
all but marble visage ! a calm, quiet expression, 
yet pregnant with meaning. Over a high, 
broad forehead, the sable hair is parted almost 
equally : the eyes are luminously dark, restless, 



REV. JAMES PARSONS. 49 

and there is a perpetual blinking over their lids, 
which indicates considerable nervous irritability. 
A close observer might also detect sundry 
twitchings of the muscles of the face, sure signs 
of the workings of the ardent spirit within. 
The countenance, taken as a whole, is a re- 
markably intellectual one — every line (and 
there are more furrows on it than Time has 
ploughed,) seems a line of thought. More- 
over, there is an aspect of anxiety, a slight 
trace, as of sadness, over the young man's 
visage ; it might proceed from over-study, or 
from recent sickness, or it might arise from that 
deep, but undefined anxiety, which more or 
less is always felt by those who feel that a 
great work is before them. If one had met 
Mr. Parsons walking on a breezy down, he 
would probably have been taken for some pale, 
impatient emigrant from a sick chamber, who 
had just strolled out to breathe God's blessed 
air once more. Surrounded as he now is by a 
tribe of portly-looking gentlemen, whose ample 
black garments are guiltless of a wrinkle, he 
somewhat reminds one of a ministerial minnow 
among the Tritons of his tribe. But let us 
have done with a description of his person, and 
listen as he addresses his audience. 

D 



50 REV. JAMES PARSON'S. 

And listen intently you must, for he com- 
mences in so low a tone that it is scare: 
sible, strive as you d catch a word. His 

tone is not much above a whisper, and his sen- 
tences are short, and appear to be jerked out of 
his throat ; — they do not seem to proceed from 
his chest at all. Then a painful impression is 
created by a short distressing which 

disturbs the speaker every two or three minutes 
or so. Nor is the unpleasant feeling lessened 
by the frequent application of a white band- 
kerchief to the mouth, as though the lungs. 
labouring in the performance of their cr: 
literally were " sweating* 1 blood. At such 
times I have seen audiences almost convulsed 
with terror ; and visions of a ruptured vessel 
have floated before many a mind's eye. As 
the speaker proceeds, his manner becomes less 
hesitating, and his enunciation more distinct. 
Sentence follows sentence with extreme rapidity. 
and now it becomes absolute] 
him, so marvellously fluent I become. He 

reminds one of the progress of a rai :ain. 

though at the time we speak of. railways were 
unknown, cr nearly so. At first, slow 
panting — next, rapid and rushing — then, flash- 
ing and meteor-like. How the voice changes 



IiEV. JAMES PARSONS. 51 

too ! — now, though by no means bell-like, nor 
loud, it is so clear and distinct that not a word 
is lost — now it is quite inaudible. And the 
eve sparkles, and the muscles of the face work 
convulsive ; and the whole frame is agitated as 
eloquent sentence after sentence is uttered. There 
is but little action^ — physical weakness appears 
to prevent that ; but what little there is, is em- 
phatic ; it is suited to the word, and the word to 
it. Still, with amazing fluency, on goes the young 
orator } now lengthening his sentences, and work- 
ing up a thought from its earliest germ to its 
ultimate developement with great power. He 
makes it a point to elaborate an idea to the 
utmost, and then, when the excitement of his 
hearers is at its highest, to startle them with 
the climax. His great effects are produced in 
this way. Weak though Mr. Parsons appeared 
at the commencement of his address, he now 
evinces no trace of debility, though he has been 
on his legs for nearly two hours ; — but suddenly 
he stops ; applies his hand to his side — then 
places his handkerchief on his quivering lips, 
turns paler than before, and abruptly concludes. 
The exertion has been tc>o great : — 

" The fiery spirit, working out its way, 
Fretteth the puny body." 



52 REV. JAMRS PARSONS. 

Loud and long is the applause which follows 
the conclusion of the speech ; but as he sits 
faint and exhausted, anxious ladies predict for 
the young man a premature grave — and not 
only ladies, for grave men express their fears 
that he will not long remain a member of the 
church on earth. Disease, however, if any of 
an alarming character ever existed, seems to 
have been checked, for, behold, gentle reader, 
on yonder chapel-door is the announcement, 
that that very same James Parsons will preach 

the Anniversary Sermon of the Society, 

in this year of grace one thousand eight hun- 
dred and fifty. We will go and observe what 
changes time and circumstances have made in 
the appearance, manners, and matter, of the 
young man whom we have seen on the platform. 



The attraction appears to be as great as ever, 
every pew is crammed ; — the aisles are densely 
crowded ; even the stairs leading to the pulpit 
are occupied by anxious people ; and as to the 
galleries, they are literally filled to overflowing ; 
for a living stream, issuing from the great body 
above, slowly and strugglingly flows (meeting 
an opposing current) down the gallery staircase. 



REV. JAMES PARSONS. 53 

The walls reek with condensed perspiration, 
and every now and then are heard supplicatory 
cries of " Oh ! do open those windows," from 
gasping mortals below. Occasionally, a lady 
is carried out in a dead faint, or screaming fear- 
fully, or kicking hysterically. Fans are flut- 
tering everywhere, and smelling-bottles are in 

great request : — in short, as Mrs. said to 

Miss , after the service, "there was not 

room to ," but we will not chronicle good 

Mrs. *s remarks, and content ourselves 

with simply saying that the chapel was " quite 
fuIL" 

The service commences; — the chapter has 
been read, the hymns given out, and the 
prayers offered up by other ministers, and now 
the grand attraction of the evening makes his 
appearance. 

Can he be the same ? Is that stout, broad- 
shouldered gentleman who stands in the pulpit, 
the James Parsons we saw so many years since ? 
Is it possible that the spare, pale-faced youth 
has expanded into the plump individual before 
us ? It is strange ; yet nevertheless it is true. 
But wherefore wonder ? Is not change in the 
flight of years an inevitable necessity ? And 
are not we changed also ? Alas ! yes. Since 



•54 REV. JAMES PAES0XS. 

we stood in front of the platform, and heard 
young Parsons speak. Time has stolen away 

oi'.r youth too : and after a few years of toils 
and trials of no common order : and after weary 
wanderings abroad and at home, we no more 
resemble the miniature which was such a 
"striking likeness" twenty years since, than 
does the James Parsons of 1 S3 — the James 
Parsons of 1S50. Our object, however, is to 
sketch a portrait, not to write a commentary 
on mutability. 

Mr. Parsons, then, stands before us : no 
longer the youth, but the full-grown man. in 
the zenith of his powers. His face has no 
longer the *' dew of youth" upon it. but what 
it has lost in freshness, it has gained in gra- 
vity. The dark eves do not sparkle as of vore, 
appearing the brighter and darker for the con- 
trast afforded by the marble-pale features: but 
there is a deeper, a more earnest expression in 
them, and their gaze is more searching. The 
face now appears somewhat bloated, especially 
at its lower part, and the hair is smoothly 
combed {no longer parted in the centre) towards 
one side. The forehead appears to overhang 
the eyes, which have a shy sort of expression : 
and the nervous irritability evinced bv the 



REV. JAMES PARSON'S. 00 

apparently involuntary twitching of the facial 
mm miis to have increased. His figure 

is thick-set, and somewhat heavy-looking, 

There cannot, in short, be imagined a greater 
transformation than Mr. Parsons has undergone 
since his youthful da; 

The change in his manner is. however, by 
:.::s bo startling as that which is evi- 
dent in his person. Let us watch him as he 
commences, and proceeds with his discourse. 

He rise? — and. evidently annoyed by the 

noise made bv the settling of the congregation 

into their places, with head slighily bent ibr- 

vlancea on either side c ;ushion. 

Perfect stillness :..: length ensues, and he gives 

a he » "hem!" At this juncture a I 

tumble-: and the eye of the preacher 

instantly glances towards the spot whence the 

noise proceeded. Another pause ! — another 

hesitating cough — and in a voice so low that 

those nearest him could scarcely hear it. he 

tS out his text. His voice is peculiar ; — at 

: Hie hears a faint sound, which cannot be 

expressed by any word I just now remem- 

: — the words issue shortly, sharply, and 

from his lips. — The text mentioned. 

are is another pause — another "hem!"' — 



56 REV. JAMES PARSONS. 

and the congregation having coughed and 
"henirncT too, he proceeds with his exordium, 
which is usually somewhat lengthy. As he 
proceeds, his hesitation diminishes, and his 
voice increases, though not greatly, in volume, 
and his sentences follow each other with amaz- 
ing rapidity. It requires a close listener to 
follow him. Frequently, instead of dividing 
his sermons into regular heads, he introduces a 
series of picturesque as well as practical para- 
graphs, each ending with the words of his text. 
On the present occasion, he is preaching of 
the eternal day of Heaven, and every brilliant 
section of his discourse winds up with the words 
— "There shall be no night there T — the last 
word being strongly emphasised. But though 
fluent and unfettered be his discourse, he is 
still keenly alive to the least interruption ; the 
exit or entrance of a hearer, or the cry of a 
child, will make him pause, and cause his face 
to exhibit every symptom of distress. He looks 
cross on such occasions ; but persons whose 
nerves are finely strung, may easily imagine 
how keenly the slightest jar on those delicate 
fibres of the frame is felt. To be so constituted 
is less a fault than a misfortune. The know- 
ledge of Mr. Parson's nervousness has generally 



REV. JAMES PARSONS. 57 

the effect of ensuring him a quiet congregation. 
When he pauses, and gives his frequent and 
habitual " hem," as though a half-painful effort 
to clear his throat, the congregation, as by uni- 
versal consent, clear their throats also ; for they 
suppress the inclination to do so whilst he is 
speaking, as much from the fear of losing a 
word, as of annoying the preacher. So on- 
ward he goes, brilliantly and effectively, and at 
length terminates his discourse by a powerful 
appeal, whose effects are at times overwhelming. 
No man can produce more startling results by 
appeals to the passions than James Parsons ; 
his style in this respect sometimes approaches to 
the terrible ; and frequently shrieking females, 
and terror-stricken men, bear witness to his 
powerful eloquence. Long may he live to exert 
it, and may the time be far distant when age 
or infirmity shall remove him from a position, 
which in his case seems an hereditary one, and 
which he has occupied so long and so well ! 



d 2 



58 



THE HON. AND REV. BAPTIST 
W. NOEL, MA.. 

01' JOHN-STREET CHAPEL. LONDON. 

Years ago. in the reign of Queen Anne, raged 
a fierce controversy between two parties known 
by the designation of High Church and Low 
Church ; and in the parliament which existed 
at the time, the House of Commons passed a 
bill against occasional conformity, by which 
penalties were imposed on all persons in office. 
who should attend dissenting places of worship. 
An imprudent act of the ministry raised the 
High Church enthusiasm to an extraordinary 
height. A divine, of inferior note, named 
Henry Sacheverell. had preached a violent 
sermon, in which he seemed to call upon the 
people to take up arms in defence of their 
endangered church. The ministers were so 



REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 5.9 

weak as to give this man a solemn trial, during 
which the people rose so tumultuously in his 
favour, that, though declared guilty, it was 
impossible to inflict upon him more than a 
nominal punishment. After the trial, he 
received more marks of public reverence and 
honour than ever were bestowed on the greatest 
national benefactor. 

One of these testimonials of esteem, for the 
said Dr. Sacheverell, was the erection of a place 
of worship, in which he might preach to his 
admirers his peculiar doctrines, without fearing 
expulsion from his pulpit. The chapel thus 
built, by private subscription, stands to this 
day. SacheverelFs bones have long since 
crumbled into dust, and his name is now 
almost forgotten ; but the temple in which he 
ministered yet remains a popular place of resort 
for the religious public, and its pulpit has been 
filled in later times by men whose fame will 
survive when its first occupant's memory shall 
have been lost in utter obscurity. 

Among the celebrated successors of Dr. 
Sacheverell may be mentioned Scott, the 
author of the well-known " Commentary on the 
Bible." This distinguished man, who raised him- 
self from the humble occupation of a shepherd 



60 REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 

of the plain to a high position in the Christian 
Church, for some time officiated as curate in 
the proprietary chapel referred to. There also 
preached the scarcely less celebrated Cecil. 
In later times Daniel Wilson, the Bishop of 
Calcutta, ministered there "in holy things," 
having for his curate, or rather assistant 
minister, the brilliant, but unfortunate Dr. 
Dillon, who afterwards became evening lec- 
turer of St. John's church, Clerkenwell, and 
was for a time one of the most popular 
preachers of his day. Poor Dillon ! he was 
but another illustration of the sad truth, that — 

i( Genius to frailty ever is allied ; 

And they who boldly venture near the sun 
May lose the wings which bore them on in pride, 
Through the wide realms of thought " 

After having acquired a reputation as an 
evangelical preacher, and as a pulpit orator of 
the first class, he fell ; and the fall from the 
pulpit is one which is seldom, if ever, retrieved. 
After a weak and futile attempt to establish a 
" Reformed Church of England, " Dr. Dillon 
sunk into poverty and obscure neglect, and 
died alone and destitute in the vestry of a dingy 
chapel, in White's Row, Spitalfields. There 



REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 61 

are some who believe that " he was more 
sinned against than sinning ;" so let us cast 
the mantle of charity over his grave, and while 
recording his fate, remember his temptations. 

Until very late, the Sacheverell pulpit was 
occupied by one whose popularity as a preacher 
has far exceeded that of any of his predecessors. 
Hitherto we may, to some, appear to have 
been wandering out of the beaten path of our 
subject matter, but our pen has a sort of 
vagrancy natural to it ; and after all, we have 
only referred to topics incident to our theme. 
Now, however, let us be less discursive, and 
visit St. John's Chapel, Bedford Row, for such 
is the name of the building where recently 
officiated the Honourable and Reverend Baptist 
Wriothesley Noel. Recently, we say, for this 
" star" of the pulpit has suddenly shot from 
that sphere to shine in another portion of the 
Christian firmament. 

Bedford Row ! to thousands of unfortunates, 
the very name is suggestive of those instru- 
ments of legal torture which compel clients to 
reveal pecuniary secrets, and which, worse than 
the "rack" of the Inquisition, kills with "hope 
deferred." It is a broad, almost silent thorough- 
fare, with spacious houses on either side, on the 



62 REV, BAPTIST W. X0EL. M. A. 

door of almost every one of which is a plate 
which intimates that some gentleman. " learned 
in the law," dwells, bj :■: ler-like. within, and 
is waiting to entangle in his subtly-contrived 
web any client-flv. who, believing that "law 
is the rule of right," and that it is not the 
province of the attorney 1 3 "make the worse 
appear tire better cause,™ an oghfe- 

lessly ventures into the office. Any day. if you 
choose to observe, reader, you may see. on the 
pavement of Bedford Row, seedy looking - 
gard old men. and ruety ancient ladies, saun- 
tering about, and gauging now and then 
certain dirt-begrimed windows. Once they 
walked jauntily into the lawye .:-. lured 

thither by hope: but time rolled on — fees 
grew few, and at length the vortex of litiga 
having swallowed their all. they sank in; : h : : s- 
less poverty, and now feel a grim satisfaction 
in revisiting the scene of their ruin, and in 
cursing the folly or the avarice which first led 
them thither. 

At the end of Bedford Bow is a nondescript 
sort of a building. Externally, it has nothi 
whatever to rec: 1 it to then Fthe 

searcher after architectural beauties. There is 
no magnificent portico, as at St. Martin Vin- 



REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 63 

the- Fields ; no graceful tower, as at St. Dun- 
starfs, in Fleet Street — no elegant spire as at 
St. Bride's : nor are there traceried windows 
on either side of the building* In fact, it is 
one of the shabbiest looking ecclesiastical edifices 
in the metropolis. Its walls are composed of 
dingy brick ; its entrances are plain to shabbi- 
ness ; and from its roof rises a bell- turret, which 
certainly is more useful than ornamental : and 
it is so situated, that a stranger might pass it a 
hundred times without having the most remote 
idea that he was in the neighbourhood of a 
church, to which, whenever its minister 
preached, flocked from far and near, half the 
popular parson-hunters of London. 

Within, the church is large and gloomy, but 
filled with an immense congregation, the 
appearance of the place is imposing. Not a 
nook is unoccupied ; and most beseeching are 
the looks of strangers in the crowded aisles, as 
the perplexed pew-openers, with a perseverance 
quite amazing, squeeze themselves through the 
masses. Hopeless is his or her case who thinks 
to obtain a place without the "silver key;" 
though in justice to the functionaries at St. 
John's Chapel, they are, on the whole, more 
civil than the generality of their class. We 



64 

are of the fortunate ones who happen to have 
an acquaintance among the seat-holders, and 
after divers efforts to catch our friend's eye, we 
at length succeeded, and, to the envy of those 
in our immediate neighbourhood, quit the 
crowd with aching sides, and with great self- 
satisfaction take our position in the snug corner 
of a snug pew, directly opposite the pulpit. 

" How well the organ is played," we re- 
marked, in a whisper, to a lady who sat by our 
side. 

" Do you know who the organist is f she 
asked. 

And having replied in the negative, we were 
informed that the fair performer was a daughter 
of that same celebrated Cecil, to whom we have 
before alluded. Need we say that we listened 
to the tones of the instrument with a deeper 
interest — an interest heightened by the charm 
of association ? And very beautifully was the 
tune played ; and heartily did all the congre- 
gation sing the hymn. At some places of 
worship, the organist, doubtless to exhibit pro- 
ficiency in his art, too often bursts scornfully, 
as it were, from the plain, simple melody, and 
wanders away into a wilderness of sounds, 
where but few of the congregation can follow 



REV. BAPTIST W. NOKL, M, A. 65 

him ; and where too, both musician and 
vocalists frequently lose themselves. Here 
there were no needless flourishes — no erratic 
flights of sound ; nor, as is sometimes the case, 
were there dreary tones to distress the multi- 
tude. All was melodious — simple, and devo- 
tional ; and if the eye of Cecil's daughter should 
ever rest on this page, let her consider it as a 
tribute to her taste. 

Full well know we that it is wrong, deci- 
dedly wrong, to gaze about us in church, for 
the mere sake of seeing who may, and who 
may not be present. But we plead guilty to 
such an amiable weakness ; and we fearlessly 
assert that there is not among our lady-readers, 
one, who, whilst remembering her own " short- 
comings" in this respect, will not accord us an 
excuse. Assuming that such is granted, we 
freely confess to having sent our eyes on a tour 
of inspection, for the benefit of our readers, of 
course. 

Fashionable as well as numerous is the con- 
gregation, and this is scarcely to be wondered 
at, for the preacher himself belongs to that 
portion of society which our New York friend, 
N. P. Willis, has styled the "uppercrust 
people/' We do not care to be genealogical, 



66 REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 

but may mention here, without usurping the 
privileges of the herald's office, that Baptist 
Noel is the son of Sir Gerard Noel and Lady 
Barham — the latter being a peeress in her own 
right. Sir Gerard, we believe, was a naval 
officer. Mr. Noel has two brothers, clergymen 
— the Honourable and Reverend Gerard Noel, 
and the Honourable and Reverend Leland 
Noel ; and his sister is a lady-in-waiting to 
the Queen. At one period, the subject of our 
sketch was also one of her Majesty's chaplains. 
The present Earl of Gainsborough (formerly 
Lord Barham), is his eldest brother. He is 
thus, it may be seen, closely allied to the aris- 
tocracy ; a body which, we may add, may, 
without any loss of dignity, well be proud of 
such a member. 

No one can glance at Baptist Noel, without 
1I3 stinctively feeling that a man of " birth and 
breeding" stands before him : for let a certain 
set of people, whose delight it is to rail at all 
who are placed in a superior position to their 
own, say what they will, there is a peculiar air 
about our aristocracy, which is decisive and 
distinctive ; a style which is " to the manner 
born,'''' and which cannot be acquired. Every 
one knows that a gentleman is not a manufac- 



REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 67 

tared article, and that, to parody Moore's 
couplet, 

1 You may spangle and dress up a man as you will, 
But the stamp of the vulgar will stick to him still." 

Let it be remembered, we by no means desire 
to imply, that gentlemen are only to be found 
in the titled and rich. Far from it. We have 
met men who would adorn any position, in the 
humblest walks of life ; and on the other hand 
have fallen in with blackguards of the first 
water, who are living libels on the nobility 
which they disgrace. 

But let us picture Baptist Noel, as he now 
stands in the pulpit. 

Those of our readers who may have seen the 
portraits of Reginald Heber, the Bishop of Cal- 
cutta, will have little difficulty in imagining 
the cast of Baptist Noel's countenance. It is 
a remarkably attractive one ; and its attractive 
power lies in the serenity which pervades it. 
A high, broad forehead, indicates the posses- 
sion of considerable intellectual power ; and 
across it, rather carelessly, sweeps long light- 
brown hair, which leaves the left temple 
exposed. The eyes are of a greyish blue, if 
such a blending of tints is allowable ; and they 



68 REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 

have a solemnly-sweet expression. It seems 
at first sight rather ridiculous to describe a 
man's nose ; but, prominent feature as it is, it 
is not to be neglected. Mr. Noel's nasal organ 
is slightly aquiline, well " chiselled," to use 
an artistic phrase, and in " harmony" with the 
other features. The mouth is well-shaped, and 
very expressive, and the chin is rather long. 
The shape of the entire face is oval, and the 
head is gracefully set on the shoulders. Mr. 
NoeFs figure is symmetrical ; in height he is 
slightly above the medium stature ; and clad 
in the habiliments of his sacred profession, he 
stands the very personification of that dignity 
and gentleness which should ever characterise 
the Christian Minister. 

From the moment Baptist Noel commences 
his discourse, the attention of the hearer is 
riveted. His voice is melodious in the extreme; 
one more musical we think we never heard. 
Well do we remember the time when it first 
fell on our ears. The reverend gentleman had 
been announced to preach an anniversary ser- 
mon for the Church Missionary Society, in the 
fine old church of St. Mary, EedclifFe, Bristol. 
That magnificent edifice was filled to over- 
flowing, the spectacle presenting an extraor- 



KEV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, A1.A. 69 

dinary contrast to that usually exhibited in the 
same House of God ; for we grieve to say, that 
the very good, but remarkably dull gentleman 
who usually officiates there, has an unlucky 
habit of thinning the pews, and of sending com- 
fortably to sleep, the few whose taste, or rather 
whose want of it, leads them to their parish 
church. At that time, Mr. Noel was in the 
zenith of his popularity as a pulpit orator ; but 
his chastened eloquence was not the only 
attraction ; his known liberal opinions had 
gained him " golden opinions " among all 
classes of Dissenters ; many of the most rigid 
of these sturdy Non- conformists, and obstinate 
resisters of church-rates — people who would, 
on other occasions, have as soon thought of 
visiting Pandemonium as a parish church, 
now flocked to hear Noel. His habit of extem- 
poraneous preaching, too, enlisted him in their 
favour ; for many of them had, and have, for 
aught we know, a thorough contempt for read 
sermons. In short, Baptist Noel was, to use 
a stereotyped theatrical phrase, a " favourite." 
Even at that period, now some fifteen years 
ago, clear-headed men declared that he was a 
" great deal too liberal for the Church," and 
prophesied that with his views, he could not 



70 REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 

long remain within its pale. The event of last 
year has verified their predictions. But we 
must not anticipate. 

Clear as the sound of a silver bell sounded 
the musical voice of Baptist Noel beneath the 
lofty ceiling, and along the columned aisles of 
the old church which we have incidentally re- 
ferred to. Vast as the building was, and filled 
with echoes, each word which fell from his lips 
was most distinctly audible in the most remote 
parts of the church. The Missionary work 
was his theme — a most congenial topic for one 
whose expansive benevolence is universally ad- 
mitted. From a little Bible which he held in 
his hand, he read the text, and then proceeded 
to elucidate his subject. Commencing with a 
general allusion to it, in the shape of a graceful 
exordium, he speedily arrived at the chief point 
of his discourse, and then, with a graceful 
fluency, he reviewed the condition and pros- 
pects of that Missionary Society, whose interests 
he was advocating. On such a field he was, to 
use a common, but expressive phrase, "at 
horne." Listening to his details of Missionary 
labour, in various parts of the world, was what 
might be termed a verbal panoramic treat. — 
Coleridge, in one of his dreamy moods, said, 



71 

" My eyes make pictures when they are shut ;"" 
and it may be remarked, that when Baptist 
Noel takes his hearers on a pulpit Missionary 
tour, he brings vividly before their mental 
vision the scenes he describes. In effect, Mis- 
sionary advocacy is his forte. Seated comfort- 
ably in your pew, with half-closed eyes, it is a 
positive luxury to accompany him, in imagina- 
tion, as he traverses the Missionary world. — 
The graceful palm of India waves its feathery 
foliage beneath unclouded skies, and under its 
welcome shade we behold the proud Brahmin 
abandoning his idols, and leaving Vishnu for 
Christ. The Pacific, studded with island-gems, 
lies blue and broad before us, and on them we 
behold temples rising, and civilization extending, 
and cruelty departing. And now 

"the spicy breezes 
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle ;" 

and in that home of all that is beautiful in the 
Physical Creation, we see idols thrown to the 
moles and bats, and gentleness substituted for 
violence. Still onward we go, and behold that 
great and mysterious country, China, partially 
opened before us. There we see the laborious 



72 REV. BAPTIST W. X0EL, MA, 

Gfutzlaff toiling in the midst of an indeed iS per- 
verse generation.' 1 Eises before us, too, the 
Pagoda and the Joss-house, and we view the 
boat-crowded river, and on its banks the Mis- 
sionary Church. Again we proceed on our 
world-journey, and cross the deserts of the 
African Continent. Sierra Leone, as lovely a 
spot to look upon as ever gladdened the eye of 
mortal, but nevertheless the " white man's 
grave" rises picturesquely from the sea ; but 
there, regardless of the pestilence that walketh 
by noon-day. works the Missionary — the graves 
of his predecessors full in view, and with the 
ever-present feeling, that in every breath he 
draws may float the elements of death. The 
fruitful islands of the West are visited — lands 
where the oppressor's chain is broken, and the 
slave groans no more. And to many other por- 
tions of the earth's surface does the preacher, 
in imagination, convey us ; and then, by a 
forcible appeal to his hearers, he convinces 
them of the claims of the Missionary Society, 
and concludes his energetic, yet calm discourse, 
by a personal application of his text to the 
consciences of those to whom he has been 
preaching. 

On ordinary occasions. Mr. Noel's sermons 



REV. BAPTIST W. XOEL, M. A. to 

are characterised by an uniform excellence. 
Those who go to hear him, in the expectation 
of meeting with something strange or startling, 
will be assuredly disappointed. His eloquence is 
like the course of a calm river, gentle, and 
musical in its flow. From the moment he 
commences his sermon, until its conclusion, 
embracing usually about an hour, or an hour 
and a quarter, there is not the slightest impedi- 
ment or interruption to the stream of his 
matter. And his voice is seldom raised above 
the pitch in which he commences ; but then it 
is too musical, and too gently modulated, to be 
monotonous. His sentences, carefully con- 
structed, are remarkably smooth, and we 
imagine are the results of study-practice. This, 
however, is not marred by anything approach- 
ing to pedantry; for no one can hear Mr. Noel, 
and believe, for a moment, that the weakness of 
affectation clings to him. His principal fault, 
as a preacher, is elaboration: sometimes he 
dilates an idea until almost all trace of it is 
lost, or it is but faintly perceived. This is not 
an habitual fault; nevertheless, it is sufficiently 
frequent to mar the effects of some of his 
pulpit productions. His action is slight, 

E 



74 REV, BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 

graceful, and such as might be supposed from a 
man of his disposition. 

A great, and distinctive feature in the 
preaching of the Rev. Baptist Noel, is his fre- 
quent use of Scriptural quotations. These, 
whatever be the topic of his discourse, are most 
felicitously introduced, not dragged in. We 
have heard some ministers fit, as it were, their 
subjects to certain passages, for the sake of a 
display of Biblical erudition, forgetful of the 
rule that the extract should aptly illustrate the 
subject matter. In Mr. Noel's case the quota- 
tions fall easily and naturally into their proper 
places, and invariably throw light upon, or 
confirm that which preceded them. We know 
but of one other minister who excels in this 
respect, and who, equally with Mr. Noel, 
enjoys the reputation, and deservedly too, of 
being a " Bible Preacher." We refer to 
the Rev. James Sherman, the successor to 
Rowland Hill. 



" The time might come when I may deem it 
necessary that I should secede from the Church 
of England : that time has not yet come ; nor 
do I see any probability of its speedy arrival." 



REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 75 

Such were the words which the Rev. Baptist 
Noel uttered on the platform of the Music Hall, 
in Store-street, fifteen or sixteen years ago, at 
a public meeting. The time, however, did 
come; and one fine morning, the religious world 
of London was startled by the announcement, 
that the popular minister of St. John's Chapel, 
Bedford-row, was about to quit the Church of 
England, of which he had been so long a mem- 
ber and an ornament, and join the great body 
of Dissenters. Many had been prepared for 
this step on the part of Mr. Noel, but on the 
majority of churchmen the announcement fell 
like a thunder-clap. Then arose the question, 
to which body of Dissenters was he about to 
attach himself? and many were the conjectures 
on this point. Until the matter was positively 
known, Independents, Wesleyans, Baptists, and 
Huntingdonians, claimed him as their own ; 
and in the expectation, that on the occasion 
of his farewell sermon, the preacher would 
mention the sect of his selection, that discourse 
was looked forward to with the most intense 
interest. 

Never, perhaps, had been witnessed so much 
excitement in the neighbourhood of St. John's 
Chapel, as on the last Sunday of Mr. Noel's 



76 REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 

ministrations there. Hours before the doors 
were opened, Chapel Street was thronged from 
end to end by eager people ; and, when at 
length the entrances were free, the multitude 
rushed in, and took forcible possession of pri- 
vate pews by clambering over them, and in a 
very few minutes completely filled the edifice. 
For a time, the scene was one of utter con- 
fusion. When, at length, the sermon com- 
menced, all ears were opened to hear the 
preacher's reasons for leaving his pastorate ; 
but, to the disappointment of all, a simple, 
faithful, scriptural sermon was preached — and 
the subject which had been looked for was 
scarcely alluded to. In a few weeks after- 
wards, all doubt on the subject was dispelled, 
by the public baptism, by immersion, of Mr, 
Noel, in the Rev. James Harrington Evans's 
Chapel, John Street, On that occasion he 
delivered an appropriate address, which, as it 
has been published and extensively circulated, 
we need not quote from in this place ; and 
shortly afterwards appeared a bulky volume, 
in which Mr. Noel, at considerable length, 
explained his reasons for seceding from the 
Establishment, and joining the Baptist body 
of Christians. 



REV, 



M. A, 77 



The exultation of the Dissenters at this 
accession to their ranks was unbounded. Mr. 
Noel's book ran rapidly through many editions 
— and the ministers of several denominations 
read portions from it on stated evenings, in their 
vestries, to those of their congregations who 
could not afford to pay for it. Now, however, the 
excitement has subsided, and the Hon. and 
Eev. Baptist Noel, instead of being a minister 
of the Establishment, occupies the compara- 
tively humble position of pastor of the chapel 
in which he was baptised — he having succeeded 
to the pulpit which became vacant at the 
death of Mr. Evans, The once Chaplain to 
the Queen is now preacher to a Congregation, 
amongst which are numbered some of the 
poorest of her subjects ; for on the occasion of 
a recent visit to John Street Chapel, we 
sat next to an individual in the free seats, 
who, fancying long coat-sleeves a luxury, w r ore 
his no lower than his elbows. There are, 
however, many wealthy persons among the 
congregation ; and, it may be added, that a 
considerable number of Mr. Noel's former 
hearers at the church have followed his ex- 
ample, and worship with him in the chapel, 
e 2 



78 REV, BAPTIST W. XOEL. M. A. 

which latter is but a few hundred yards from 
the former. 

Some people are apt, when talking of heroes. 
to imagine that those only are entitled to the 
laurel crown, who ;i wade through fields of 
slaughter." This hero-worship is confined to 
the Caesars, the Soults, the Wellingtons, and 
the Napoleons of History. But the battle 
plain is not the only field from whence heroes 
spring, or where bold deeds are wrought. 
Humble life can and does furnish numerous 
examples of heroism, unnoted it may be by 
the historian, but not the less heroism for the 
omission from history's page. Our daily paths 
are filled with heroes. The self-criminated 
drunkard, who, spite of derision and inclina- 
tion, bursts the ignoble chain which long had 
bound him, is a moral hero. And the meek, 
enduring woman, who, through seasons of 
severe trial, has held on her way uncom- 
plainingly, though scourged by the neglect °* 
him who should have been her guardian ; and 
who, with a dark cloud ever over her, has 
trained her children with a strong pious endea- 
vour, is a heroine — ave, as great, or a greater 
one than Joan of Arc : and he who long has 
fostered one set of principles, but finding by 



REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 79 

some burst of light that they were erroneous 
abandons them, is a hero too. Remembering 
this, we may easily suppose that it required no 
light effort for Baptist Noel to leave a long- 
cherished church, and bid adieu to strong 
attached friends — for conscience sake. During 
the whole of his career, mild and beneficent as 
it has been, he possessed that great gift — a 
decisiveness of character. This was strikingly 
apparent some years since, when the Bishop of 
London made his fierce onslaught on the London 
Oity Mission. 

To the eternal honour of Baptist Noel be it 
recorded, that he was the only clergyman who 
scorned the prelate's threat, that those of the 
ministers of the establishment in his diocese 
who refused to abandon that society, should 
be ejected from their pulpits. Refuse he did — 
but he was not ejected. They who have noted 
the conduct of Charles James, the metropo- 
litan bishop, in the case of Mr. Bennett, of St. 
Barnabas, will be at no loss to account for the 
non-fulfilment of his threat. 



At first sight it appears rather strange to 
behold Mr. Noel in the pulpit of a Baptist 



80 REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, If. A. 

chapel, divested of gown and bands. The 
strange feeling, however, soon wears off; for 
there is the same classic head — the same serene 
eye — the same sweet and dignified expression 
— the same musical voice. The sincerity, too, 
is quite as genuine, the appeals quite as fervent, 
and the piety as sincere as ever. The scene of 
the Christian's labour is altered ; the labour cf 
the Christian is as devotedly pursued as ever. 
And why not ? After all, worshippers of the 
Sun of Righteousness gaze on the same orb, 
and reflect his brightness, though different be 
the points, and " wide as the poles asunder," 
from whence they gaze. Blind bigots they, who 
arrogate to their own sect the right to point 
the road to Heaven ! 

Mr. Noel has figured as an author as well as 
a preacher. They who are curious to see him 
" in print" may be glad to know that he is the 
author of " Notes of a Tour in Ireland, in 1835, " 
and of several pamphlets. Many of his sermons 
have been published in the periodicals of the 
day ; in fact he has been a fortune to young 
stenographers, who have made a market of his 
discourses. He has also published a volume 
of verses, of which candour compels us to say, 
that «they contain more piety than poetry. 



REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A. 81 

Smooth and harmonious they are, of course ; 
but something more is required, now-a-days, 
from those who rhythmically snatch the pen, 
and rush into Appollo's presence. With the 
utmost respect, therefore, for Mr. Noel, we 
incline to the opinion, that, amiable as are his 
verses, they are not destined to figure in any 
future collection of the English Poets. 

With this good-natured semi-criticism, we 
close our sketch of this excellent man. Sit- 
ting quietly in a pew in John Street chapel, 
we hope again to listen to him, as we have 
frequently heard him of yore, with pleasure, 
and we hope profit. Let people drivel as they 
will of the " good old times," we candidly con- 
fess that the present are much more to our 
taste ; and if we were asked to specify in what 
the latter differed pleasantly from the former, 
we should unhesitatingly assert that the gentle 
teaching of Baptist Noel is far more useful 
than the fiery and the furious lessons of his 
pulpit predecessor, Sacheverell. 



82 



THE REV. HUGH M'NEILE, D.D.. 

OF LIVERPOOL. 

We have already sketched the great Protes- 
tant champion of the Scotch Church. Dr. 
Curmning ; let us now present to the reader a 
pen-and-ink portrait of another, and no less 
celebrated antagonist of the Eoman Catholics 
— Dr. M'Neile, of Liverpool. 

For a number of years this eminent Church 
of England Divine has occupied a prominent 
position in the Church. Gifted with powers 
of the very highest class, and possessing per- 
sonal attractions of no ordinary kind, is it to 
wondered at that wherever and whenever he 
has officiated, eager and admiring crowds have 
followed, and almost idolised him I To see 
the thronged church doors, long before the 



REV. HUGH M'NEILE, D. D. 83 

hour for the commencement of the service, 
whenever Hugh M'Neile is to preach, reminds 
one of the scenes which used to occur outside 
" Old Drury," when Edmund Kean was an- 
nounced to perform Richard the Third; or, to 
come down to recent times, to those which 
were familiar to every habitue of the opera on 
a Jenny Lind night. Let not the reader deem 
us profane, because we institute comparisons 
between the attractive powers of stage per- 
formers, and a pulpit orator. We merely refer 
to what occurs outside the church or theatre, 
when either are the "stars" for the time, and 
by no means wish to imply that the preacher 
and player have any other than the said attrac- 
tive attributes in common. 

Ever a bold and unflinching enemy of the 
Church of Rome — for he scarcely ever preaches 
a sermon in which he does not attack it — the 
energies of Dr. M'Neile have of late been called 
forth with even more than usual vehemence, 
by the aggressive acts of the Old Man of the 
Vatican. In the foremost ranks of those who 
have protested against the " insolent and insi- 
dious" measures of Pope Pius, and his emissary, 
Cardinal Wiseman, he is to be seen ; and in 
the universal shout of indignation with which 



Si REV. HUGH :>l\"EILE. D. D. 

the notorious ; * Bull" has been received by the 
Churches of England, his voice is more dis- 
tinct! y heard than that, perhaps, of any other 
person, either clergyman or layman — peer or 
commoner. By a sort of prescriptive privi- 
lege, and by common consent, he takes the com- 
mand of the Protestant forces; and if as we 
shall presently have to show, he does occa- 
sionally allow his valour to outrun his discre- 
tion, with the tact of a consummate commander 
he speedily repairs the mischief, and. with litti 3 
or no diminution of power, renews bis wai: 
with the enemies of his faith. 

That strange country which boasts of a 
Grattan, a Curran. an Emmett, a Moore, and 
of many of the brightest stars in the hemis- 
phere of genius, claims Hugh M'Neile as one 
of her most gifted sons : and he does no 
discredit to the land of his birth ; for he pos- 
sesses all that impetuosity of temperament — 
that versatility of talent — that exuberance of 
imaginatiin. and that affluence of imagery, 
which have characterised some of the most cele- 
brated of the children of the Green Isle, and 
which were never more conspicu sveloped 

than in his own case. Ballycastie. a place near 
Belfast, was his birthplace. Dublin, we believe. 



REV. HUGH MNEILS, B. D. 85 

was the spot where his days of pupilage were 
passed. London was, for a time, the field in 
which he battled for name and fame ; and, as 
all the world knows, he is now the '' observed 
of all observers' 1 in the town of Liverpool. 

We have intimated that, for a time, he was 
one of the most popular preachers of the London 
pulpit. This was nearly twenty years ago. — 
Hither he had come from the Irish metropolis, 
with the prestige of an Hibernian success 
almost unparalleled, and with all the collateral 
influence which a relationship to the celebrated 
Archbishop Magee could give him ; he having 
married that prelate's daughter. 

For a time Dr. M'Neile rode on the tide of 
success. His youth — his person — his uncom- 
mon talent — his untamed energy, drew. Sunday 
after Sunday, admiring crowds. From the peer 
to the parvenu, all were loud in their praises 
of the young Irish preacher. Ladies were 
enraptured with his florid descriptions, his 
poetical metaphors, and his rhetorical flowers. 
Stiff churchmen were delighted by his bold 
and fearless advocacy of their doctrines ; and 
that vast and nondescript class of persons who 
go wherever a popular preacher officiates, what- 
ever his creed may be, followed in the train, 

F 



86 REV. HUGH AfNEILE, B.D, 

and lauded him to the skies. Brilliant was 
his career — still more brilliant was the vista of 
the future which stretched out before him. 
But alas ! the Public is a fickle animal, and 
popular applause is as variable 

u as the shade 
By the light quivering aspen made : n 

something new was the great want of the day 
then, as it is now, and novelty will always 
carry every thing before it. No matter how 
absurd a creed is — let it be strange and start- 
ling, and it is certain to attract. The greatest 
favourite of the public, unless he has the tact 
to vary his attractions, will, in the end, find 
himself lying high and dry on the beach of 
neglect and forgetfulness. And this will be 
the case all the sooner if it should happen that 
a counter attraction is offered to the senses of 
the " million." So it happened in the instance 
of Hugh M'Neile. Not gradually, but all at 
once, empty seats were to be seen in his church. 
w T here of late pews had been at a premium. 
The fees to the sexton became alarmingly small, 
and the face of the beadle became strangely 
lugubrious. Fortune, proverbially fickle, in 
never more decided manner exemplified her 



REV. HUGH MCNEILS, B.D. 87 

attribute. But what caused the defection from 
the quondam favourite ; Had his energies 
declined ; By no means. Were his sentences 
less skilfully balanced, or his periods less care- 
fully rounded I Nothing of the sort. Had he 
promulgated heretical doctrines, or enunciated 
strange opinions which were at variance with 
the Bible? Far from it. Was his daily life 
inconsistent with his public ministrations ; 
No one could assert that. Yet, from some 
cause or other, the influence he once possessed 
was clearly all but gone. The magnet had 
lost its attraction, and the human filings had 
ceased to cling to its pole. The reason of 
all this was the simple fact that there were 
now iC two Eichmonds in the field." Another 
wonderful man had ascended the London 
pulpit stairs, and by his very eccentricities of 
thought and action, was now carrying all before 
him. The new comet, blazing with wondrous 
brilliancy, a very gem in the heaven of intel- 
lect, attracted every eye and dazzled all by its 
strange splendour. The Irishman's star " paled 
its ineffectual fires," as the Scottish meteor 
flashed through the firmament. But transient 
indeed was that glitter and glory : in the davs 
of which we speak, however, its melancholy 



88 REV. HUGH >l\vEILE, D.D. 

extinguishment was not at all. or but very 
dimly prognosticated : vet whilst it lasted, 
nothing could exceed the enthusiasm of those 
who watched the phenomenon. Edward Irving 
and Hugh M'Xeile. like two stars, could not 
shine in one sphere. This. M c Neile had the 
penetration to discover before he wholly lost 
the ground he had previously gained. The 
partial withdrawal of public favour and popu- 
larity, must have galled one of so susceptible a 
temperament as himself, for no philosophy, we 
think, can entirely reconcile a man of genius to 
such a change. What course did he pursue? 
He well knew that the labour of Sisyphus was 
an easy task compared to that of him who 
should strive to regain lost popularity in 
London. But there were "fresh fields and 
pastures new"' in which he might range ; and 
so. preferring rather to rule absolutely than to 
share a divided crown, he left his rival in full 
possession of the public ear. and quitted London 
for Liverpool : and in the Northern Metropolis 
of Commerce he has ever since remained, exer- 
cising perhaps a greater influence within its 
boundaries, than any one other of its inhabitants 
— its chief officer not excepted. It has been 
said, and with truth, that Dr. M'Xeile is 



KEY. HUGH m'kEILE, D.D. 89 

" monarch of all he surveys,' 1 in his particular 
sphere of action. His will is indisputable, and 
his word is law. Warwick was not more 
celebrated as a King-maker, than is Dr. M'Neile 
as a manufacturer of Liverpool mayors. Out 
of the pulpit as well as in it, he is all powerful, 
and even the ladies of Liverpool acknowledge 
and bow to the authority of their idol, for little 
short of an object of idolatry is he to the fair 
portion of his flock. And this is not in the 
least to be wondered at ; for seldom, if ever, has 
the pulpit been occupied by one who, in his 
own person, contains so many attractions, and 
whose mind is of so exalted an order. 

That we may convey to our readers a correct 
idea of the ;i outward man" of this celebrated 
divine, let us visit his church. We have 
threaded the busy streets of Liverpool, and 
arrive at the building where he officiates, full 
half an hour before the time appointed for 
commencing the service. But difficult indeed 
is it to gain admission, and still more arduous 
is the endeavour to leave the thronged aisles, 
and secure a snug pew. Strangers are, we 
regret to say, seldom cared about in fashionable 
churches. Even ladies are allowed to stand 
until they are ready to drop with fatigue, close 



90 REV. HUGH mVeILE, D.D. 

to the very pews where loll at their ease sturdy 
old gentlemen, and conceited young coxcombs. 
They manage these things better in America, 
for there, no gentleman would dream of sitting 
whilst a lady was unaccommodated. We 
merely throw out a hint, without, however, 
much hope of its being acted on, for such 
individuals as we have just referred to, are, in 
this respect, past praying for. 

Still increases the crowd, until at length the 
spacious building is literally crammed with 
humanity ; the bonnetted portion of the con- 
gregation being evidently in the majority, 
as usual. And a perfect blaze of beauty is 
presented by this assemblage of Lancashire 
witches. It is not, however, exactly the 
place or time, to indulge in criticisms on coun- 
tenances ; so, with an effort we fix our eyes on 
our prayer-book, strive to check our wandering 
thoughts, and join, we trust sincerely, in the 
devotional exercises of the evening. 

The prayers are ended, a hymn is being 
sung, and whilst its last line lingers on the 
lips of the congregation, the minister of the 
place appears in the pulpit. A glance tells us 
that M'Neile is before us, for portraits innu- 
merable have made us familiar with the exact 



REV. HUGH aTnEILE, D.D. 91 

features of his countenance — and a significant 
countenance it is ! 

Tall, but not stout, is the figure of Dr. 
JVPNeile, and very graceful does it look, attired 
as it is in the flowing robes of the Church. But 
the face is what rivets one's attention, by its 
remarkable charm. I will endeavour to describe 
it. 

Phrenologists, might fall into fits of rapture, 
when surveying the lofty and expansive fore- 
head of our subject, and painters might rejoice 
at the bold sweep of the now almost white hair, 
which partially overshadows it, and which is 
so carelessly, yet so picturesquely disposed. 
But the eyes, certainly, to the great majority 
of observers, would form the chief points of 
attraction. These are wonderfully fine ; large, 
dark, and glowing, yet possessing a peculiar 
gazelle-like softness, they surpass, in beauty, 
all other eyes which we have seen in mortal 
orbits. There is, too, when their owner is 
pouring forth his eloquent denunciations, a 
defiant boldness in them, which is haply 
characteristic of the speaker's mind, and 
remarkably varied is their expression ; now 
soft and dewy, as those of the gazelle's, and 
which, without any straining after simile, 



92 REV. HUGH m'nEILE, D.D. 

they resemble ; now flashing with indignant 
fire ; now beaming with tenderness, and anon 
possessing a sternness which makes one almost 
quail beneath their gaze. The nose is finely 
formed, the mouth most delicately chiselled, 
and, like the eyes, capable of a vast variety of 
expression. Who that has seen and heard 
M^Neile has not noted how scornfully the upper 
lip can curl, or how sweet is the smile which 
at other times lingers there. The complexion 
is a mixture of pure white and red, and, take 
Dr. M'Neile altogether, it would be difficult to 
discover another in whom fine mental and phy- 
sical qualifications so happily meet and combine. 
How often does it occur — and every person^ 
experience proves it — that a single defect mars 
a whole cluster of excellences. The peacock 
attracts us by its green and golden plumage, 
but scares us by the harshness and dissonance 
of its cry. Start not, reader ; we have not the 
slightest idea of associating the manly attrac- 
tions of M'Neile with the glittering glory of a 
bird. What we mean is that, in many cases, 
the disagreeable voice of a minister alone ban- 
ishes from our minds all the favourable impres- 
sions which his personal appearance had excited. 
It is not so, however, in the instance of our 



REV. HUGH M*XEILE, D.D. 93 

present subject : the tone is to the full as har- 
monious as we might have been led to expect, 
from the appearance of the instrument. 

To drop metaphor, the voice of Dr. M'Xeile 
is wonderfully fine, and is as superior to that of 
any other person we have ever heard, as the 
tones of the organ is to that of any other musical 
instrument. To thoroughly understand what 
a voice it is, it must be heard : for how can a 
pen describe the peculiarities of sound \ Suf- 
fice it to say, that all who have heard M'Neile 
agree in asserting, that no pulpit orator of our 
day possesses so remarkable a vocal organ. At 
times its tones are music itself ; and on no oc- 
casion are they harsh or discordant. There is 
a majesty, too, in his manner, which wonder- 
fully adds to the effect of his utterance. His 
vigorous mind preserves him from the former 
evil, and his strong good sense effectually 
prevents him from nauseating us with the 
latter. 

No one can be inattentive, we think, whilst 
M ; Xeile is preaching. The very first sentence 
he utters secures attention, and each succeeding 
remark increases it. The great feature of his 
oratory is boldness — boldness, perhaps arising 
as much from a consciousness of his own povv- 
f 2 



94 REV. HUGH i\f NEILE, D.D. 

ers, as from a conviction that he is uttering 
great truths. But with all our respect and 
admiration for Dr. M'Neile, we do not consider 
him to be a deep thinker : there is great 
talent, but little profundity, in his verbal dis- 
courses ; and, popular as he is, we venture 
to say that he shines less in the pulpit than on 
the platform. There he is at home ; for, re- 
leased from those trammels which the clergyman 
must feel around him in the pulpit, he can give 
a loose rein to his impetuous temper, and allow 
his eloquence to take broader and bolder flights. 
Who that has seen him on the platform of 
Exeter Hall, and there witnessed his form 
dilate, and his eye kindle, as he launched forth 
the thunderbolts of his eloquent indignation 
against the Romish Church, w T ill not agree 
with us in thinking that, great as he is in his 
church at Liverpool, he is still greater as the 
orator of the public meeting, or the controver- 
sialist of the theological arena. 

We have so far sketched Dr. M'Neile in a 
favourable light ; but there are shades incident 
to every feature, and truth compels us to dash 
a little darkness in. This eloquent preacher's 
career has been ehecqnered by one or two cir- 
cumstances, which we, who admire him, would 



EEV. HUGH M^KKILK, D.D. 95 

rather had not occurred. Every one remem- 
bers that a few years since Prince Albert paid 
a visit to Liverpool, and that Dr. M'Neile 
preached a sermon on the Sunday before his 
Royal Highnesses visit. 

So far so £Ood. But what think you, reader. 
was the text which the eminent preacher 
selected I None other than a part of that 
awful passage in which the last coming 
of Christ is predicted — u Behold he cometh 
with clouds, and every eye shall see him." — - 
The words " every eye shall see him" were ap- 
plied to Prince Albert, and to those Liverpud- 
lians who should stare at him. " From the 
sublime to the ridiculous there is but one step," 
and from the sublime to the blasphemous we 
fancy there is about the same distance. The 
Press, with one voice, protested against "the 
selection of such a text on such an occasion, 
and the Prince himself was not flattered by it. 

Doubtless the doctor's loyal enthusiasm led 
him astray in this instance, as his Orange pre- 
dilections have hurried him into opinions and 
observations, which, a few hours after he uttered 
them in the pulpit, he publicly retracted, and 
properly stigmatised as i4 atrocious." But we 
love not to dwell on the spots in any character. 



96 REV. HUGH ICNEILE, D.D. 

— and these which we have just referred to are 
but specks, after all. It would, indeed, be a 
phenomenon to find genius, and, with due 
respect we say it. Irish genius, unallied to 
frailty. In the case of Dr. M'Neile, the 
prompt retraction of his unguarded expressions 
redounds infinitely to his credit, and amply 
compensates for his impetuous imprudence. 

As we have intimated, in a previous portion 
of the sketch, Dr. M'Neile has been for years 
the consistent advocate of Protestantism, and 
the unflinching opponent of the Roman Catho- 
lics. The recent act of the Pope has added 
fresh fuel to the fire of his energy, and the 
English Church possesses, at this moment, no 
more powerful champion. His chief fault is 
the allowing his valour, at times, to get the 
better of his discretion. That fault, however, 
is of the head — not of the heart, and such being 
the case, there is no reason to suppose that his 
powerful aid will be diminished, or even 
impaired thereby. 



97 



THE REV. JOSEPH SORTAIN, M.A., 

OF BRIGHTON. 

Much as we are inclined to believe, with Dr. 
Johnson, that there is no place like London for 
enjoyment, and that a walk through Fleet- 
street is one of the pleasantest strolls in the 
world ; or with dear, quaint Charles Lamb, 
that a brick and mortar city presents more 
variety than the country, for when we see one 
field we see all fields ; or with Captain Morris, 
the witty, who, scorning muddy roads and 
ploughed meadows, exclaimed, — (i Give me the 
sweet, shady-side of Pall-mall ;" we, neverthe- 
less, do feel now and then a natural inclination 
for a stroll in the " green country," where 
4 "amid" as Keats says, /'verdurous paths, and 
mossv winding wavs " we may for a season 



98 REV. JOSEPH SORTAIX. If. A. 

abandon the Sisyphus work of the pen. and 
enjoy " measureless content/ 1 Some such 
feeling stole over us during one of the bright 
early days of the present year, a day which 
more resembled one of May than of heretofore 
bleak January. Happily, a slight indisposition 
furnished us with an excuse for a plunge into 
the provinces, and so. leaving our tea-caddy to 
the tender mercies of our landlady, we hurried 
to London Bridge, deposited ourselves and a 
small carpet-bag in a railway carriage, and in 
two hours afterwards, were strolling along the 
Marine-parade of Brighton, drinking in the 
fresh sea-air, with a gusto, which only those 
accustomed to be long ;i in populous cities 
pent," can appreciate and enjoy. 

A pleasant place is Brighton, with its long 
shingly beach— 

' ' Where the sick one roams ; 
And the sentimental reads ; 
Where the ocean goes to cast its foam ; 
And the widow, to cast her — weeds :"' 

with its Esplanade, and its Chain Pier, and its 
tilagree Pavilion, and fine clean streets, the 
blue sea bordering it, and the bluer sky bending 
over all. But as we are not about to write a 



KEY. JOSEPH SORTAIX, M, A. 99 

Guide Book, we must decline enumerating the 
other ;i lions" of the place, save and except one 
and he roars " so gently," that far from being 
scared by the epithet I haye used, the reader 
will possibly be attracted, as I was, when I 
yisited for the first time North Street Chapel. 

Pleasantly came the breeze from the sea, 
as early on the Sabbath morning I entered 
the burying ground of the Old Church. There 
it stood on an eminence, oyerlooking the town 
and the sea, grey and venerable, its stunted, 
square tower, surrounded by countless grayes, 
most of them ancient and crumbling to decay. 
Very fond are we of old church-yards, and 
generally on yisiting any fresh town or yillage, 
our first ramble is to the ancient resting place 
of the patriarchs of the yillage, where, on frail 
and perishing materials, are inscribed memo- 
rials of yet frailer love ; where we may study 
the history of Human Life in but two chapters 
— Birth and Death ; and where, too, we may 
think 

" Of youth, gone down — of beauty lost ; 
Of energy and strength departed ; 
Of passion stilled — of progress crossed ;— 
Of mourners — broken-hearted r '—= 



J 00 REV. JOSEPH SORTA1N, M. A. 

Not with morbidity of feeling do we seek 
such a resort. Generally we experience emo- 
tions there which are akin to pleasure ; and, to 
confess the truth, we are prone to " grub" 
among graves for the sake of the antiquarianism 
of the matter, regarding the tombstones but 
as so many loose leaves from History's self- 
written book. 

There are numerous quaint epithets in the 
Brighton Old Church Yard ; of these I must 
only mention three. One records the valorous 
feats of one Phoebe Hessel, who for many years 
was a private soldier, and fought at the Battle 
of Fontenoye, where she was wounded. George 
the Fourth granted the she-veteran a pension, 
and she died at Brighton a few years ago, aged 
108 years. The second monumental siab in- 
forms us, that he who sleeps beneath (we forget 
his name) aided Charles the Second to escape 
from his rebellious subjects. The remaining 
epitaph is in the true church-yard style. It 
runs thus :— 



" This child who perished by the fire. 
Her Christian name it was Sophia, 

Likewise her sister, Mary Anne, 
Their father was a fisherman." 



REV. JOSEPH SORTAIN, M. A. 101 

But enough of " Meditations among the 
tombs." 

Quitting this Brighton Golgotha, we, " wan- 
dering at our own sweet will," at length came 
to a church, which exhibited considerably 
greater pretensions to architectural beauty than 
the one we had left. Anxious to see all we 
possibly could, we entered the edifice, and in- 
continently were placed in a pew. The vicar 
preached, but the Reverend Mr. Wagner had 
no sooner given out his text, and uttered the 
first sentence of his sermon, than we fancied 
we had heard something remarkably like the 
latter before ; and the old story of the pla- 
giarising preacher, who pilfered from Baxter, 
South, Howe, and Tillotson, and who, when 
he railed at a hearer who detected the lar- 
ceny, uttered the only original portion of his 
discourse, flashed across our memory. Yes, 
— as Mr. Wagner proceeded — we felt sure that 
we had his very words stereotyped on our 
mind, and could even anticipate his coming 
sentence. But, lo ! the wonder was soon at 
an end, for we discovered that the Reverend 
Vicar of Brighton was preaching a sermon 
which had been printed the very day before ! 
and which by accident had fallen into our hands. 



102 REV. JOSEPH SORTAIN, M. A. 

Not feeling inclined to suffer a severe trial of 
our patience twice, we slid gently from the 
pew, and left the parishioners to enjoy as they 
best might, the second and verbal edition of a 
vicar's sermon on church rates ! 



While looking at some pictures in the 
shop window of a bookseller, our eye was 
attracted by a handsome volume, then just 
published, whose title page informed us that it 
was an historical tale, appropriate to the Papal 
Aggression period, entitled ;i Hildebrand and 
the Excommunicated Emperor.*" The author 
was the Rev. Joseph Sortain. Forthwith we 
purchased the work, and were so pleased with 
it, that we felt an inclination to know more of 
its author. So, having made the requisite in- 
quiries, we learned that Mr. Sortain was, and 
had been, for seventeen or eighteen years, the 
pastor of North Street Chapel, and thither on 
the following Sunday evening we went. 

Perceiving, by a notice on a board in the 
lobby of the chapel, that a pew was appropri- 
ated to strangers, we naturally supposed that 
the good people of North Street Chapel had, 
in the plenitude of their politeness, set apart 



REV. JOSEPH SORTAIN, M. A. 103 

a space for human " waifs and strays ;" and we 
really were mentally thanking them for it, when 
we were informed, that to avail ourself of the 
seat, we ought, on the previous Saturday, to 
have provided ourself with a ticket, the price 
of which was one shilling. Away flew our 
notions of that chapel's courtesy at once, and 
we could not help thinking that the pious and 
serene Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, the 
founder of the place, would have done a grace- 
ful thing in a rather more graceful manner. 
Fortunately, a friendly pew door was thrown 
open, and, without being taxed, we were 
enabled to occupy a seat. 

A pretty chapel is that of Lady Hunting- 
don's. Externally, it has little to recommend 
it, but within, its neat snugness is charming. 
It is not lofty — but sufficiently so for ventila- 
tion ; and from the centre of the ceiling hangs 
a bude-light burner, concealed by plates of 
ground glass. Around the four sides of the 
oblong runs a gallery 6 in one part of which, 
opposite the pulpit, is an organ. The pulpit 
is plain, but handsome ; and on either side of 
it are two reading desks — the church service 
being read in all places of worship belonging 
to the Countess of Huntingdon's "connexion." 



104 REV. JOSEPH SORTAIK, JVL, A. 

The chapel was remarkably well attended ; 
indeed, on the occasion of our visit it was 
crammed. We at first supposed that the spe- 
cial occasion, its being the last Sabbath evening 
of the year, operated as an attraction ; but 
were subsequently informed that on all occa- 
sions a similar eagerness to hear Mr. Sortain is 
exhibited. In honour of the season, the pulpit 
and adjacent desks, and the pillars of the recess 
in the gallery behind the pulpit, bude-light, 
and the organ, were decorated with holly, from 
amongst whose glossy leaves gleamed the 
lustrous red berries. As I looked on these 
adornments, it struck me that had they been 
placed in a church, some people would have 
set down the minister thereof as a rank Pu- 
seyite. For my own part, though not of that 
hybrid race, I rather like to see either church 
or chapel bright with florid beauty, and I really 
think that the bare, grim walls of some of our 
conventicles, would look all the better if a few 
pictures were placed on them ; these could not 
convey half so many false notions as those we 
frequently derive from the perusal of the graven 
and gilded lines on monumental marbles. 

The " service" was read by a young man 
in a surplice. How seldom that magnificent 



REV. JOSEPH SORTAIN, M. A. 105 

ritual is icell read. Gro to a dozen churches, 
and in eleven out of the dozen it is "gabbled" 
over. In the present instance it was feelingly, 
but whiningly delivered, and the defect was 
somewhat monotonous. But we hate fault- 
finding, so let us join in the hymn, which is 
being tolerably well sung, and await the 
sermon. 

From a little door, at the head of a small 
flight of stairs on one side of the chapel, issues 
the pastor of the place, who ascends the sacred 
desk. The hymn concluded, he rises, engages 
in a brief prayer, and commences his discourse. 
But before we speak of the sermon, let us 
glance at the preacher. 

Zaccheus-like, he is no giant, but that is of 
less importance in the pulpit than in a ball- 
room. Mr. Sortain's face is one of those which 
may fitly be described as " pleasing " in expres- 
sion. Raven-black hair covers the well-shaped 
head, and ditto-coloured whiskers adorn the 
somewhat fresh-coloured cheeks. Seldom have 
we seen more beautiful eyes than those of Mr. 
Sortains ; their calm, quiet expression, it is 
quite pleasant to contemplate. They, too, like 
the hair, are of sable hue. The nose is slightly 
aquiline, and the mouth small and symmetrical. 



106 REV, JOSEPH SORTAIN, If. A. 

But why be minute in pen-portrait taking \ 
We will, therefore, wind up our sketch of Mr. 
Sortain's outward man. by adding that we have 
seldom seen, in any pulpit, a face on which fine 
intellect, amiability, and taste, are more unmis- 
takeably inscribed. 

In a tone of voice, so remarkably low as to 
be almost inaudible. Mr. Sortain commences 
his sermon. The text is a brief one. and very 
appropriate to the season — ;; Thou hast made 
ray days as a hand-breadth." It is evident he 
is far from being in a state of robust health. 
though there are no indications of disease on 
his countenance. But then, a close observer 
will not fail to note a difficulty of articulation. 
consequent on some chronic (it may be) affec- 
tion of the bronchial apparatus — such as public 
speakers are frequently subject to. Eemarking 
this, we were by no means surprised to hear 
Mr. Sortain intimate, in the course of his ser- 
mon, that during the last year he had been 
subjected to almost " ceaseless suffering," and 
this we can well believe ; for he who. Sunday 
after Sunday, and on intermediate week-days, 
is compelled to exercise the organ of speech, 
whether that finest of musical instrumental 
contrivances be in tune or not. must invariably 



REV. JOSEPH SO&TAIN, M. A. 3 07 

suffer a sort of semi-martyrdom. Little do we 
think, whilst listening to some orator, that he, 
from whose lips flows the continuous stream of 
eloquence, is suffering torture; yet such is, 
to our own knowledge, often the case ; and, 
doubtless, many of our readers will remember 
instances within their own circle, of such pulpit 
endurance. 

As Mr. Sortain proceeds, his voice becomes 
clearer, but increases very little in volume. 
Weak though it be, it is to our ears far from 
unmusical. We rather like quiet preachers, 
they generally have u stuff" in them. Mr. 
Sortain is a first-rate logician — a close reasoner 
— scorning the adventitious aid of clap- trap, he 
pursues the even tenor of his way — indulging 
in no flinging about of a perfumed pocket-hand- 
kerchief — (as did a certain effeminate divine, 
whom we lately heard at Southampton, and who 
acted upon us emetically) — nor descending to 
common-place metaphor, or second-hand anec- 
dotes. Indeed, we have been informed, that 
anecdotes of any kind in the pulpit are Mr. 
Sortams abhorrence. As he proceeds with his 
subject he gradually warms, and becomes almost 
energetic — quite so, indeed ; and when he raises 
his voice, a touching solemnity pervades the 



108 REV. JOSEPH SORTAIN, Iff. A. 

place. One can see that he is in earnest, and 
his earnestness triumphs over all physical diffi- 
culties. Sometimes he soars into the regions 
of true poetry ; and, on the occasion of our first 
hearing him, the picture he drew of the departing 
year, addressing one who had abused its golden 
opportunities, was remarkably fine. He is very 
happy, too, in word-painting. Sitting in your 
pew, he brings home scenes so graphically 
before the eye, that we see as in a Claude Lor- 
raine glass. In this respect we hesitate not in 
styling him, and we consider it no mean com- 
pliment — the Dickens of the Pulpit. 

On several other occasions we heard Mr. 
Sortain : but perhaps the sermon which most 
interested us, was that one which he delivered 
to the children of the Sunday schools, at noon, 
on the first day of the new year. Preaching 
to grown up people is not the easiest thing in 
the world, we should imagine ; but we feel sure 
that preaching to children must be a very diffi- 
cult thing indeed, to do well. Alexander 
Fletcher is, perhaps, the king of child divines ; 
but we shall have to refer to him elsewhere. 
Mr. Sortain possesses the happy art of enchain- 
ing and retaining the attention of the youngsters. 
While hearing him, we felt like a little boy 



REV. JOSEPH SORTAIN, M. A. 109 

once more, and almost certain are we that we 
enjoyed the discourse quite as much as the 
children to whom it was addressed. And why 
not ? Why should we not read, as indeed we 
do, with as keen delight as ever, " Watts' 
Hymns for Children, " and " Robinson Crusoe,'* 5 
and " Jack the Giant Killer P If, as Words- 
worth says, "the child is father of the man," 
the man would be remarkably ungrateful if he 
despised those works which gladdened the 
heart of the child-parent. 

Perhaps there are few pastors more beloved 
by their people, than is Mr. Sortain by his 
congregation : and, evidently, the affectionate 
feeling is reciprocal. His own words, uttered 
in my hearing, were these — " they had spoiled 
him.' 1 He was alluding to the rather slender 
attendance at week-day prayer meetings, and 
comparing it with the full seats on Sundays. 
In the gay and fashionable town of Brighton, 
(though he would scorn the idea of a "fashion- 
able" preacher as much as ourselves,) he is 
extremely popular : he would scarcely be less 
so anywhere ; that is, anywhere where the 
people make any pretensions to refinement. 
Vulgarity, it is true, will sometimes acquire 
popularity. Lately, whilst on a visit to that 



110 REV. JOSEPH SORTAIX. M. A. 

place of anti-church-rate notoriety — Brainti 

in Essex, we went to hear a Mr. C. . who, 

we were informed, was a "celebrity" — the 
*• Rowland Hill of Essex/' as he was styled — ■ 
and never were we more pained and provoked 
than while listening to an hour-long sermon, of 
which coarseness and conceit formed the chief 
material. Yet the man was '" popular" among 
a class whose taste may be imagined from their 
admiration of their orator. From "popular 
preachers '' of such a sort, may we be mercifully 
preserved. 

When we re-visit Brighton, we shall most 
assuredly pay Air. Sortam's chapel another visit 
— a sort of compliment we should not think of 
paying the preacher at Braintree. 



Ill 



SKETCHES AND REMINISCENCES 
OF THE BRISTOL PULPIT. 

Had we written a chapter on the Bristolian 
Pulpit, some quarter of a century ago, we 
should, most assuredly, have been less discur- 
sive than it is at present our intention to be. — 
At the period to which we refer, Bristol was a 
very reservoir of ministerial talent ; and to it, 
as unto a centre of attraction, were drawn 
those who, either from motives engendered by 
curiosity, or from feelings born of piety, desired 
to hear the u outpourings" of pulpit magnates. 
Men, universally acknowl edged by their con- 
temporaries to be " arbiters of taste, and 
masters of opinion," thought it not beneath 
them to resort to Broadmead Chapel, to hear 
the pure streams of " English, undefiled," 
which every Sabbath day flowed from the elo- 



112 THE BRISTOL PULPIT. 

quent lips of Eobert Hall. In a pew of that 
meeting-house, which has been rendered famous 
by its pastors, might often have been seen Sir 
James Mackintosh and Henry Brougham. — 
Plunket, too, was a visitor there ; and he de- 
clared that, until he heard Hall, the Prince of 
Preachers, he did not know what preaching 
really was. 

Besides Hall, there were at that time other 
ministers of mark ; men who, though they did 
not shine with a brilliance equal to that of the 
great luminary, were not extinguished by its 
flood of splendour. Little disparagement is it 
to the present occupants of the pulpits of Bristol 
to assert, that the palmy days of preaching in 
that ancient city have passed away. An 
Augustan age comes not twice. Estimable 
and talented are the men of whom we shall 
presently speak ; and possibly they may be 
more useful preachers than the departed wor- 
thies, so far as relates to " the million," but 
that the mantles of Hall and some of his 
contemporaries have fallen on their shoulders, 
no one, we imagine, will be inclined to assert. 

Well do we remember Robert Hall. As we 
write these memorials, the living man seems to 
stand before us just as he appeared in the pulpit 



THE BllISTOL PULPIT. 113 

in old times. The grand and capacious fore- 
head — -bare, on its lofty summit ; — the spark- 
ling, yet solemn eyes, lighted up as he gives 
utterance to the splendid creations of his pow- 
erful intellect ;— the rather short nose — the 
large mouth — the broad lower portion of the 
face, and the double chin, are vividly apparent, 
as is the broad and ample chest, pressed 
against the pulpit ; and the hands — one gently 
raised from the Bible, the other resting on the 
page. The whole man, indeed, is depictured 
in our memory. Our ear also receives anew 
echoes of tones long since uttered ; the weak 
voice — the hesitating sentences at the com- 
mencement of the sermon — the continuous flow 
of musical language as it proceeded — and the 
almost jubilant tones with which it ceased. — ■ 
In a previously published volume, we have 
described Robert Hall at some length, and 
therefore must not, in this place, prolong the 
subject. 

Another of the Bristol " Celebrities " was 
John Foster, the well-known author of the 
"Essays," and one of the most profound thinkers 
of modern times. An eminent minister recently 
said to us, when we introduced his name in the 
course of conversation— " Ah ! sir, Foster was 

a 9. 



114 THE BRISTOL PULPIT. 

a man without a heart." We do not agree 
with him. A heartless man would not have 
written as the great Essayist wrote. A heartless 
man would not have shunned hollow popularity, 
and found his chief delight in preaching in the 
cottages of the poor, as Foster did. It is true, 
that owing to the peculiar constitution of his 
mind, he was prone to look at most things 
through a gloomy media, and that his imagina- 
tion was almost always morbidly tinged ; but 
the few who knew him best, and loved him 
most, agree in declaring that no man possessed 
more generous sympathies, or kindlier impulses. 
Mr. Foster seldom preached in Bristol— but 
when he did it was an " event." Every one 
went to hear him, impelled by the same sort of 
curiosity as that which made the literary people 
of eighty years since throng Mrs. Thrales"' rooms, 
in order to hear Dr. Johnson talk. Church 
people and Dissenters, Clergymen and Metho- 
dist Parsons, Unitarians and Bnptists, sat side 
by side, presenting a rather startling spectacle, 
especially in a city where considerable animosity 
then existed between the members of different 
sects. The personal appearance of the preacher 
was singular enough ; he resembled rather a 
country farmer, than a minister of the Gospel 



THE BRISTOL PL'LPIT. 115 

and an eminent writer. As he mounted the 
pulpit stairs, you saw before you a stout per- 
sonage, in an unmistakeable wig, which the 
renowned Truefit never could have turned out 
of his establishment ; a wig, pointed at its 
summit, the shape of the forehead being rather 
pyramidal. The eyebrows were large, black, 
and bushy, and the eyes beneath, dark, bright, 
and keen. These, however, were half-concealed 
by a pair of huge circular-rimmed silver spec- 
tacles, which rested on a long nose. From the 
partial absence of teeth, the mouth was some- 
what retracted, but its angles had what John 
Keats calls, a " downward drag austere.*' A 
blue, old-fashioned coat, with huge skirts and 
ample pockets outside, and decorated with 
large brass buttons ; a black waistcoat ; drab 
small-clothes, and top boots, with a thickly- 
rolled neckcloth, completed John Foster s cos- 
tume ; and, certainly, anything more unpro- 
fessional could scarcely be imagined. But all 
this singularity of appearance was forgotten 
when the great man commenced his prayer, 
which itself was, as a lady once observed, " one 
of Mr. Foster's essays which we stand up to ;" 
and then his sermons ! At first the text was 
mumbled out, and one was apt to feel something 



116 THE BRISTOL PULPIT. 

like disappointment ; but that feeling quickly 
passed away as the preacher proceeded. To 
give anything like a verbal description of Fos- 
ter's style would be next to an impossibility, 
and, therefore, we shall not attempt the almost 
hopeless task, 

William Thorpe was, literally and figura- 
tively, another great Bristol preacher. Of 
elephantine dimensions, he literally filled the 
pulpit of Castle Green. His forte was the 
exposition of mystical texts ; and on certain 
occasions, where time was allowed him for 
preparation, he was highly impressive. He 
was, however, far from being an original 
preacher. To compensate for this, his memory, 
like his person, was " prodigious," and this was 
the great and unfailing bank on which he drew. 
Robert Hall said of him that he was a reservoir 
— not a fountain ; and he was right. This 
fact renders his few r published works all but 
valueless, there being little in them which may 
not be found in previously published standard 
works. His name lives in the affectionate 
remembrance of many friends ; but his fame as 
an orator perished, when for the last time he 
quitted the pulpit. 

Others might be mentioned, who, at that 



REV. THOMAS WINTER, 117 

period, were ministerial " stars" in Bristol. 
We must, however, cease from our allusions to 
the past, and glance briefly at a few of those 
individuals, who at the present time occupy 
prominent positions in the metropolis of the 
West of England. 



THE REV. THOMAS WINTER. 

Within a quarter of a mile of that old bridge 
of Bristol, which the neglected genius of Chat- 
terton has rendered famous, is situated Counter- 
slip Chapel, the name " Counterslip" being a 
corruption of Countess's Slip. It stands in a 
half-secluded, out-of-the-way sort of locality, 
which is rather an advantage than otherwise, 
inasmuch as two desirable objects are thereby 
attained — quiet, and concealment ; for the 
edifice not being remarkable for its architectural 
beauty, is much better placed where it stands, 
than if it occupied a prominent position in some 
public thoroughfare. Internally, it is large 
and commodious, but the reverse of elegant ; 
that, however, is a matter of but little conse- 
quence to the good folks who statedly attend 
there, who, for the most part, are of that class 



118 REV. THOMAS WjXTER. 

who eschew anything like show in chapel- 
economy. Some years ago, the idea of an organ, 
which a number of the "gay young people' 1 
proposed to have erected, partly at their own 
cost, almost created a civil war in the commu- 
nity ; for many of the sturdy old members 
resolutely opposed the contemplated innovation, 
preferring the doleful singing, to which for 
years they had been accustomed, to something 
like melody. 

Imagine, reader, that on a Sunday evening 
we are walking to the Oounterslip Chapel. 
The principal streets leading thereto are 
thronged with pedestrians, who are all pushing 
forward towards one point. Joining the line 
of procession, we soon reached the edifice, and 
enter. The service has just commenced, but 
the chapel is already crowded. — The galleries, 
the body of the house, and the very aisles, are 
thronged. " Surely some great display of elo- 
quence will be made this evening ; certainly 
some magnate of divinity is about to preach F? 
— Such might be the suppositions of a stranger: 
but he would be disappointed. A little door 
behind the pulpit is opened, and the minister 
of the place makes his appearance. Presently 



REV. THOMAS WINDER. 191 

he rises to commence the service, thus afford- 
ing us an opportunity of noticing his person. 

The preacher is rather under the middle 
height, and rejoices in an amplitude of waist- 
coat, which conveys very strikingly the idea of 
rotundity. When such a developement of adipose 
matter occurs in bishop, dean, or canon of the 
Church, as in the case of the late Sidney Smith, 
uncharitable folks are apt to attribute it to 
luxurious siestas, with a penchant for old port, 
and sundry savoury comestibles. In the instance 
of the gentleman whose pen-portrait we are 
now sketching, they would, did they form such 
an opinion, be most lamentably in error ; for 
a harder-working, more devoted pastor, and a 
man of simpler habits, does not exist. But let 
us glance from figure to face — and a pleasanter 
countenance we have seldom looked upon ; — 
pleasant, but serious withal. We remember 
his hair when it was dark and glossy, some 
twenty-five years ago, but it is now grey and 
thin. Time has left fewer traces on the face, 
which is round, and genial in its aspect. A 
pair of grey eyes give animation to a counte- 
nance, in the centre of which is a short, slightly- 
aquiline nose, and beneath it one of the most 
good-natured mouths in the world. The expres- 



120 TtEV. THOMAS WINTER. 

sion of the combined features at onee enlists the 
owner of them in your favour ; one feels sure 
that they must belong to a good and amiable 
man ; and they do; for there is not a member 
of the Rev. Thomas Winter's congregation 
who would not testify tD the possession of " all 
the virtues" by their pastor. 

Mr. Winter's voice is remarkably pleasant. 
If his matter is not characterised by profound 
learning, it is distinguished by the most genuine 
piety. He is what is called a " plain preacher," 
— that is, he is rather useful and practical, than 
flashy and theatrical. The simplest person can 
follow and understand him ; and as his congre- 
gation consists chiefly of plain people, he is 
eminently fitted for the peculiar position he 
occupies. But let it not be inferred, from this 
observation, that his ministrations are unaccep- 
table to the educated and refined ; for by such 
he is scarcely less appreciated than by his 
humble hearers. His sincerity, affection, and 
earnestness, win for him golden opinions from 
all classes. As a pastor, he exercises a greater 
influence, than, perhaps, any other preacher in 
the city of Bristol. When Mr. Winter first 
accepted the Pastorship of Oounterslip Chapel, 
the place was all but deserted ; but, from being 



REV. JOHN JACK. 121 

the inferior Baptist Church, he has raised it to 
be the first on the list. And let it be remem- 
bered, that the vast increase of his members 
went on during the time when Hall, Thorpe, 
and Roberts, men of brilliant endowments, were 
the pastors of chapels in the immediate vicinity ; 
a striking instance of what may be accomplished 
by simple devotedness and unaffected piety, in 
spite of the absence of soaring genius, or the 
want of academic training. 



THE REV. JOHN JACK. 

After the death of William Thorpe, to whom 
we have already adverted — -the gentleman 
whose name heads this section succeeded to 
the vacant pulpit. Castle Green Chapel is one 
of the largest and handsomest dissenting 
places of worship in Bristol, and belongs to 
the Independents. The congregation is nume- 
rous and respectable — in the days of Thorpe 
it was one of the " crack" places of religious 
resort ; and although at the present time it is 
not so crowded on Sabbath days as of yore, 
yet it still holds its place as one of the leading 
churches of the city. 

H 



122 REV, JOHN JACK. 

The Eeverend Mr. Jack is, as it regards 
personal appearance, not altogether unworthy 
to stand in the pulpit of his great predecessor. 
To be sure, he does not by any means so nearly 
approach the proportions of Daniel Lambert, 
as did Thorpe — but he is a " big" man for all 
that. Tall, and burly in figure ; with broad 
shoulders — a large chest, and muscular limbs, 
he would attract attention in a less peaceable 
arena. His face is, however, by no means 
bellicose in its expression, but quite the reverse ; 
— simple good nature, blent with a certain air 
of shrewdness, is its leading characteristic : 
crisp, curly hair, thickly streaked with grey, 
covers a large head, and clusters round a well- 
developed forehead ; the eyes are small, bright, 
and searching, yet at times remarkably soft and 
humid ; and when the preacher is excited, they 
sparkle with unusual brilliancy. The face is 
broadest at its lowest part — the mouth being 
somewhat large. On the whole, the impression 
produced by a survey of Mr. Jack's counte- 
nance is, that it is that of a man who possesses 
great energy of character, and an intellect of no 
common order. 

The instant Mr. Jack utters a single word, 
all doubt as to his nationality (if any previously 



REV. JOHN JACK. 123 

existed) is at an end. His features give no 
indication of his Scottish origin, but his tongue 
at once betrays it. His dialect, indeed, is the 
broadest Scotch we ever remember to have 
heard in the pulpit. At first it is not very- 
easy to understand him — but an attentive ear 
speedily becomes accustomed to his delivery, 
and then it is really rather pleasant than other- 
wise. Mr. Jack is a logical preacher — he 
thinks and reasons closely : on commencing his 
sermons, he usually speaks somewhat hesita- 
tingly, but he soon warms up to his topic, and 
then he proceeds with much rapidity. Of 
action and gesticulation he is rather prodigal. 
One great merit of his discourses is their con- 
secutiveness, and condensation ; — he neither 
flies off at a tangent from one subject to another, 
scattering the links of thought, nor does he 
amplify an idea until he wears it threadbare. 
He is partial to controversy ; and few are more 
happy in disentangling a web of sophistry, and 
exposing error. We remember a triumphant 
instance of his power in this respect. 

Some few years since, the celebrated Dr. 
Lant Carpenter, father of D. W. B. Carpenter, 
the distinguished Professor of Medical Juris- 
prudence at the London University, and an 



124 REV. JOHN JACK. 

able writer on Physiology, was minister of the 
Unitarian Chapel at Bristol, and at that chapel 
he preached a lecture, in which he opposed the 
doctrine of the duration of future punishment. 
The discourse created great sensation, on 
account of the daring opinions which were 
promulgated by the preacher, and they, of 
course, attracted the attention of the minister 
of Castle Green, who publicly announced that 
on the following Sabbath he would preach a 
sermon for the purpose of refuting the heterodox 
assertions of the Unitarian. 

On the evening appointed, who should make 
his appearance in the midst of Mr. Jack's con- 
gregation but Dr. Carpenter himself? He 
was a spare, little man, with a head which 
reminded one of an encyclopoedia. A zealous 
deacon of the chapel was observed to whisper 
something in Mr. Jack's ear — and, of course, 
the Castle Green minister was fully cognizant 
of the presence of the pastor of Lewin's Mead 
Sanctuary. But fearlessly he attacked the 
doctrines wdiich the Unitarian had published, 
and in the opinion of the great majority of his 
hearers, he came from the field of Christian 
conflict a victor. Mr. Jack, on this occasion, 
reminded us of Dr. Chalmers — he appeared to 



REV. HENRY ISAAC ROPER. 125 

seize, as it were, with his teeth, the knotty 
arguments of his adversary, and drag them 
asunder. Dr. Carpenter announced his inten- 
tion of replying to Mr. Jack's statements, but 
never did so. 

Mr. Jack ranks high in the estimation of all 
who value sound preaching. There is nothing 
flimsy in his pulpit discourses ; the coin which 
he sends forth from the mint of his mind is 
not spurious, but of that sort which will stand 
the test of ages. He is, in short, a "star" of 
the Bristol pulpit. 



THE REV. HENRY ISAAC ROPER. 

The pulpit of the Independent Chapel, in 
Bridge Street, has, during a long series of years, 
been filled by men of considerable abilities. 
Samuel Lowell was a long time its occupant ; 
after his death Mr., now Dr. Liefchild, became 
pastor, and by his powerful preaching attracted 
large congregations. Believing, we presume, 
that Craven Chapel, London, presented a 
wider field for the exercise of his talents, he 
quitted Bristol for the metropolis, where he 
now labours. He was succeeded by a Scotch- 



126 REV, HEXRY ISAAC ROPER. 

man. the Eev. Mr. Legge. whose stay, how- 
ever, with his flock, was rather abruptly 
terminated. For some time the church was 
pastorless. but at length two ministers preached 
a series of sermons, in order that the choice, 
as to which of them should be elected Mr. 
Legge's successor, might be made. 

These probationary preachers were the Eev. 
John Harris, the very popular author of " Main- 
mon/ 1 u The Great Teacher." and other prize 
essays ; and the Eev. Henry Isaac Eoper, of 
Teignmouth. Harris was then at the zenith 
of his popularity. Edition after edition of his 
K Mammon" had been disposed of with almost 
unprecedented rapidity, and as a preacher he 
was highly appreciated. Mr. Eoper, had not, 
that we are aware of. produced any popular 
work, and his reputation as a preacher had not 
travelled so rapidly or so far as that of Mr. 
Harris. It was. therefore, considered, as almost 
certain, that the good folks of Bridge Street 
would elect the latter. But when the decision 
was made, the former was invited to the vacant 
pulpit. 

The fact of Mr. Roper's having been unani- 
mously called to the pastorate of the Bridge 
Street Church, sufficiently proves, (when the 



REV. HENRY ISAAC ROPER. 127 

great popularity of the other divine is taken 
into consideration,) that he must have given 
evidence of powers of no common order, and of 
elevated piety. Neither can be for a moment 
doubted, We have had ample opportunities 
of watching his career, and can with truth 
assert, that it has been to the full as successful 
as those who formed the highest expectations 
of him, and who were most sanguine as to his 
ministerial qualifications could desire. 

Bridge Street Chapel may boast of as many 
truly intellectual people among its members, as 
any we know of out of the metropolis ; so a 
second-rate minister would not have suited 
there. With respect to the building itself, it 
is spacious, but somewhat gloomy. Yet, 
withal, there is a dignity about it which puts 
the tawdry adornments of such a flimsy struc- 
ture as Lady Huntingdon's Chapel, in Lodge 
Street, to shame. Let us not, however, further 
dwell on the accessories of our Pen-Picture, 
but introduce the chief subject of this sketch 
without further delay. 

The minister of Bridge Street issues from a 
door at the side of the chapel, and proceeds 
towards the pulpit. He is tall, and somewhat 
slim, but yet gracefully proportioned. From a 



128 REV. HENRY ISAAC ROPER. 

very high, well-developed forehead, light hair 
is combed back. The eyes are grey, and very 
soft and sweet in their expression. Slightly 
aquiline is the nose ; and the mouth well- 
shaped. A deep, strongly-starched neckcloth 
gives a rather stiff appearance to the gowned 
figure, as it turns from one side of the pulpit to 
the other ; but, taken altogether, few ministers 
present a more striking appearance in the 
sacred desk. 

Mr. Roper's pulpit manner is exceedingly 
agreeable. His good taste is evidenced in the 
avoidance of all those " aids to elocution,*'' 
which we have frequently seen adopted by far 
less gifted orators. His action is simple and 
unaffected, and well calculated to attract atten- 
tion. His voice is clear and musical, and its 
tones are carefully modulated. The lowest 
notes are distinctly heard in every part of the 
large chapel, and in this respect, as well as in 
many others, the habitues of Bridge Street have 
gained much ; for, owing to a weak voice, and 
a broad Scotch brogue, the predecessor of Mr. 
Roper was, to many of his auditors, quite " a 
trial." 

The discourses of the reverend gentleman 
are models of composition. They are eminently 



REV. HENRY ISAAC ROPER. 129 

consecutive ; and whilst the most refined minds 
enjoy them, the humblest individual cannot 
fail to understand them. Earnestness and 
faithfulness are broadly stamped upon every 
sermon he preaches : and if we may judge from 
the deep hush which pervades the place when- 
ever he preaches, we are certain that amongst 
the congregation there is scarcely an inattentive 
hearer. 

As a pastor, Mr. Roper is one of the most 
devoted and hard-working we ever knew. Bible 
classes, singing classes, prayer meetings, and 
lectures, are his delight ; and the young people 
of his congregation, who are ardently attached 
to him, may well prize a pastor who so grace- 
fully and kindly leads them, not only into the 
paths of piety, but also into the realms of 
secular knowledge, for Mr. Roper occasionally 
lectures on physical science, which he converts 
into a handmaid of Divinity. Estimable and 
excellent ! may he long occupy his position — 
a position which he dignifies by his talents, 
and adorns by his virtues ! 



h 2 



130 



THE KEY. JOHN LIEFCH1LD, D.D., 



OF LONDON, 

If the seeker after one of the most eminent 
preachers of whom London can boast, should 
happen to traverse that ,; Street of Palaces" — 
as some one has called it — Regent Street, and. 
quitting its broad pavement, and superbly 
fitted-up shops, and its throngs of fashionable 
pedestrians, and its strings of gaudy equipages, 
will turn into a narrow thoroughfare, the name 
whereof is Foubert's Place, and walk onward 
for a distance of about two hundred yards, he 
will, suddenly, at a slight turn of the scarcely 
more than "passage." behold on his right hand 
a chapel of very large dimensions. Like many 
other London places of worship, it is externally 
dull and gloomy-looking. Magnitude appears 
to have been the principal object aimed at by 



REV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, D.D. 131 

the architect, and in this he has succeeded ; 
for Craven Chapel — such is its name — is a 
monstre meeting-house indeed. 

Glad are we to find that since it was erected 
those who build chapels pay great attention to 
the combination of space with elegance. Look 
at the great awkward places, known as " The 
Tabernacle," in Moorfields, Whitfield's Chapel, 
in Tottenham Court Road, and the Spa-Fields'* 
Chapel. In their brick-and-mortar uglinesses 
they are positively disgraces to the country 
which has produced a " Crystal Palace." As 
we said, however, a better time has come. 
Look at the exquisitely beautiful chapel in the 
City Road, recently opened by the Indepen- 
dents ; — at the New Baptist Chapel in Blooms- 
bury, where the Rev. William Brock, late of 
Norwich, now officiates, and at many of the 
churches recently built by the members of the 
Church of England, among which we may 
enumerate the church near the Great Railway 
Station, at Paddington, the church in the New 
Cut, and others. 

If the outside of Craven Chapel is sombre- 
looking, we are, on entering it, unpleasantly 
impressed by its additional gloom. The area 
is huge and dim, the place being but badly 



132 REV. JOHN L1EFCH1LD, D.D, 

lighted. A heavy and very deep gallery runs 
around all four sides of the walls, and over this 
is a small and light one for the children of the 
Sabbath and day-schools. Of course, as two 
of these galleries are directly behind the pulpit, 
those portions of the congregation who occupy 
them have fine opportunities afforded of closely 
observing the back of the preacher — the good 
people in the lower seats being so near the 
minister that it would be perfectly easy for 
them, during a dull sermon, to amuse them- 
selves by criticising the style, and counting the 
"gathers" in the gown. Doubtless, space is 
acquired by this arrangement, but we cannot 
reconcile such to our notions of taste. Perhaps 
we may be reminded that human souls and 
mortal bodies require something more impor- 
tant than mere decoration ; and that architec- 
tural consistency should not be made a matter 
of paramount consideration. Of course, we are 
aware of this, but we do think, that by a little 
good management, the Temples of the Most 
High may be made much more elegant than at 
present, without sacrificing room, or there being 
less ample accommodation. But we may not 
linger on this topic. 



REV. JOHN L1EFCHILD, D.D. 133 

It is the evening of the Sabbath day : from 
scores of church towers peal forth melodious 
invitations to the respective churches, — invita- 
tions, not verbal like those of the Muezzin's 
in the little galleries of the minarets which 
crown the Mussulman mosques ; yet which, 
though but tintinnabulary, convey quite as 
distinct, and a far sweeter summons to them 
who are worshippers of that one God, whose 
prophet Mahomet was not, but who is Him- 
self the Great Prophet, Priest, and King. 

As we soberly and sedately proceed towards 
Craven Chapel, we pass and meet thousands, 
who, like ourself, are seeking some temple 
made with hands. A fashionable lady sweeps 
by, her silks rustling for very richness, and her 
graceful form redolent of civet ; behind her, at 
a respectful distance, walks, almost as proudly 
as herself, her page — a neatly dressed youth, 
who catches a reflected glory from his gorgeous 
mistress, and who feels the profound contempt 
of an incipient " Jeames Yellowplush" for the 
vulgar little urchins of the street, who, gazing 
on the row of silver-plated knobs which con- 
fine his jacket over his padded chest, " put 
their fingers to their noses, and spread their 
fingers out," and salute him as •' Buttons." 



134 REV. JOHN LTEFCHILD, D.D. 

The mistress and the page enter Archbishop 
Tennyson's fashionable Chapel-of-Ease — the 
latter to get rid, for two hours or so, of the 
splendidly bound Bible and Prayer Book, which 
the lady was too weak to carry herself ; and 
the proud beauty to glide gracefully into her 
comfortable pew — to kneel on crimson velvet 
hassocks — and, while seated on the softest 
cushions, and playing with her trinkets, to 
denounce herself as a "miserable sinner/ 1 
Then, too, we encounter a grim-looking Quaker, 
with two fair ladies — one old and prim, the 
other young and plump, looking as though she 
anything but liked to wear such a horrid bonnet, 
and such a drab dress ; there seemed to us as 
much worldliness and pride under those plain 
habiliments — rich, though plain — as we have 
ever noticed beneath satin and lace. And a 
few flaunt by us, tricked out in vulgar attire, 
toward Socialist lectures at Holborn's Hall, or 
the John Street den of infidels ; and scores 
rush eagerly past, bound for suburban tea- 
gardens, or for some saloon such as that in the 
City Road. 

We have at length arrived at the chapel, 
and as we are rather before the time for com- 
mencing the service, we may as well take a 



REV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, D.D. 135 

few glances at the good people who are seated 
in the pews above and below. They are, for 
the most part, a substantial-looking set of indi- 
viduals, having well-to-do, comfortable faces 
of their own ; youug, intelligent-looking men 
muster in great force ; and need we add, that 
a majority of ladies are present I — Some inqui- 
sitive Christians have, we believe, mooted the 
question whether Heaven will not contain more 
women than men ? — and thus curious have 
they been, in consequence of having observed, 
in almost every place of religious worship, that 
hats are far and away " counted out" by the 
bonnets. We have heard enthusiastic young 
men express their decided opinion, that the 
ladies will, in Paradise, in point of number, 
exceed the sterner portion of creation ; but we 
must, injustice to that sterner sex declare, that 
in almost every case where such a declaration 
was made by a youth, the said youth was 
" attached" to one in whose presence he offered 
the flattering opinion ! Alas ! that we should 
have to add, how frequently have we known 
those very same gentlemen, after the "for 
better or for worse" affair was over, express, 
in the hearing of the " angel" of a twelve- 
month previous, a decidedly contrary opinion. 



136 REV. JOHN LIEFCHILT). D.D. 

Snugly ensconced in a pew, the sextoness 
Very politely, seeing that we are a stranger, 
provides us with a hymn-book. We glance at 
the title-page, and perceive that it is a collec- 
tion of original hymns, contributed by various 
pens, for the use of the congregation of Craven 
Chapel, The preface informs us that among 
the writers are James Montgomery, Joseph 
Cottle, Josiah Conder, and Edward White, a 
pretty safe guarantee that excellence has been 
ensured. The editor was, of course, Dr. 
Liefchild himself; and all honour to him 
for having exerted himself to produce some- 
thing which may supersede much of the divine 
doggrel of our day. — We trust no one will 
suppose that we cannot and do not appeciate the 
beautiful lyrics which appear in many of our 
hymn-books ; but really they are so few and 
far between, that searching for them in some 
'' collections." is akin to digging for jewels in 
a dunghill, or hunting for a grain of wheat in 
a bushel of chaff. 

Fond as we are of good hymns, and believing 
our readers to be partial to them, we make no 
apology for transcribing, in this place, the one 
from LiefchilcTs collection, which chanced to be 
sung on the evening' of our visit. The author's 



REV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, D.D. 137 

name is not appended to it, although many, 
very far inferior, are acknowledged, We hap- 
pen to know the gentleman whose production 
it is, and, without his permission, mention his 
name ; and he need not be offended with us for 
doing that which his modesty forbade ; for 
this Christian lyric is worthy to stand be- 
side those glorious verses commencing with 

' ' There is a land of pure delight, 
Where saints immortal reign ;" &c. ; &c. 

by the greatest of hymn writers, Isaac Watts. 

Here, then, is the hymn in question. The 
author is the Eeverend Edward White, minister 
of Eign Chapel, Hereford, who, as a preacher 
and an author, will, if we are not greatly 
mistaken, when he has emerged from the partial 
obscurity of the provinces, be hailed as a star of 
the first magnitude. 



" WITHIN THE VEIL." 

" 'Tis but a veil that hangs between 
The saint and joys divine ; 

And rays of mercy oft are seen 
Betwixt its folds to shine. 



138 REV. JOHN LIE1CHIL1), D.D. 

11 When fainting pilgrims weep no more, 

But 'mid their woes rejoice, 
'Tis light from Heaven has saved the poor 

And raised the grateful voice. 

" When flames around the martyr's brow 

Forbid his faith to fail, 
The beams which on his features glow, 

Shine from within the veil ; 

" And hourly doth that veil unfold 

Some waiting saint to bless, 
Whom Jesus summons to behold 

His face in righteousness : 

11 The angels bear them, one by one, 

To join the eternal throng, 
Who, round about the great white throne, 

Awake the Conqueror's song ! 

" Their harps of gold we hear not now, 

But soon the day will rise, 
When, veiled no more, we all shall know 

The glories of the skies." 



The preacher has entered the pulpit unob- 
served by us — for, to tell the truth, we have 
been so engaged in running our eye over the 
hymn-book, that we have thought of little else. 
But now as we glance at him, the lineaments 



REV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, D.D. J 39 

of one whom we used to love to hear at Bridge 
Street Chapel, Bristol — a place whose present 
pastor we have sketched in that part of this 
volume where we have referred to a few minis- 
ters of the Pulpit of the great Western city, 
are before us. They are changed, however, 
from what they once were ; and little wonder : 
a score of years and rather more have elapsed 
since we last heard the Doctor: since then we 
have more than once crossed the broad Atlan- 
tic ; have travelled from " the jumping off 
place," as the Yankees call the northernmost 
point of North America, to the mouths of the 
Mississippi ; have scampered across the prairies 
of Ohio, and palavered with real, genuine red 
men, in the wilds of the Far West. Superior, 
Huron, Michigan, Ontario, Erie, Ohamplain, 
and a dozen lesser lakes, have we traversed. At 
Niagara we have wondered and worshipped ; 
and in the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky have 
lost ourself. All this have we " realised," as 
well as some pleasant episodical affairs in the 
shape of " bar" hunting, and possum trapping, 
and is it to be expected that the intervening 
time should not have effected a great change 
in the Craven Chapel minister, as well as in 
his sketcher ? 



140 REV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, r>.D. 

Then the hair was black, and plenteous — the 
face was characterised by a boldness, a bluff- 
ness, which, by the way, it has not entirely lost. 
Then there was a defiant sort of energy in the 
preacher's manner, which well comported with 
his sturdy and stalwart figure. Well do we 
remember the powerful impressions frequently 
made by his bursts of almost fierce eloquence. 
People, unbelieving people, as he spoke, would 
turn pale as though they read their own con- 
demnation by the light of the lurid flames of 
Hell. Richardson, the well-known provincial 
showman, used to say, " when he engaged a 
gentleman to ' do ' deep tragedy, that he didiit 
want him to talk Shakspwr; all he required 
was a ' bould speaker/ r We mean not to 
institute any comparison between Mr. Richard- 
son's hero and Dr. Liefchild — but assuredly 
the latter was a bold speaker ; a divine who 
had a dash of John Knox in him. 

Let us, however, look at him as he appears 
to-day — in the year of the famous Fifty-one. 
Fancy, then, dear reader, a tall, broad-shoul- 
dered, stalwart man, of some seventy years of 
age, or, as cautious ladies say, thereabouts. 
The face is large and broad, and the features 
massive. Hair abundant for a man of his years, 



11EV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, D.D. 141 

fast approaching to a decided grey, is tossed 
about carelessly on the summit of a capacious 
forehead. Large grey eyes gleam from beneath 
bushy brows, with a searching and solemn 
expression. The nose is short and broad, its 
point being slightly retrousse. The mouth is 
Walter Scottish, and the chin large and double. 
The frame is still stalwart, and but little bowed 
by years. In fact the reverend doctor, were it 
not for the grey hair, would scarcely convey the 
idea of advanced age at all. 

The prayers of Dr. Liefchild are unusually 
solemn. The slightly, but not unpleasantly, 
nasal voice, is low, and impressive in its intona- 
tion. His manner, too, is deeply devotional 
and unstudied ; and far from partaking of that 
conversational tone to which we have elsewhere 
referred reprobatingly. This exercise is usually 
brief; but such, in our opinion, is far more 
impressive, and calculated to effect good, than 
when prayers are continued for so long a time 
that the hearer's head is confused, and his 
limbs weary. Wisely does Dr. Liefchild avoid 
the danger of such contingencies. 

If the doctor's sermons are not as physically 
vigorous in their delivery as they used to be, 
they are, nevertheless, impressive. At the 



142 REV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, D.D. 

present day a calm dignity pervades them, 
which it may be, is preferable to the " power- 
ful" effects of by-gone days. 

When it is admitted that almost every 
preacher treats the same subject in a different 
manner, it is not the easiest thing in the world, 
at a glance, to decide who is, and who is not, 
an original expounder of the sacred text. We 
should decidedly pronounce Dr. Liefchild to be 
no copyist. He always appears to grasp the 
leading idea of his topic, at once, and, careless 
of other people's opinions, to enunciate his own. 
There may be somewhat approaching to an air 
of dictator ialism about him, but it is not at 
all offensive ; for he speaks, as he has a right 
to do, as "one having authority." 

In a low, muffled tone he commences his 
sermon. The sentences are brief, and between 
each he makes a short pause : but ere long he 
enters so warmly into his theme, that sentence 
after sentence flows in one almost unbroken 
stream. Flinging aside the dogmas of writers 
and commentators, he goes at once to the root 
of whatever matter he may have in hand, and 
seldom fails to leave a decided impression that 
he is in the right. If, as we before intimated, 
he does not so much as formerly deal in the 



REV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, D.D„ 143 

'•thunders of Sinai, " be more than compen- 
sates for it by the " cords of Love," whereby 
he attempts to lead his hearers to the brow of 
Calvary. It has been said, that he never 
delivered a sermon which was entirely without 
producing a converting effect on some one 
hearer ; of course, it would take one, far better 
informed than our humble self, to answer for 
the truth of the assertion. 

Pulpit critics have charged Dr. Liefchild 
with frequent misquotations of Scripture ; and 
that he frequently does so misquote cannot be 
denied : but then the errors are slight, and do 
not affect the truths or doctrines of the Bible 
in the least. The fact is, that his creative 
mind supplies, to a certain extent, the momen- 
tary loss of memory ; he unconsciously extem- 
porises a passage — that is all. Then he has 
been charged with the abruptness with which 
he frequently concludes his sermons. But we 
do not agree with those who think that a wind- 
up should always be a finished piece of compo- 
sition. When a preacher thinks he has pro- 
duced the impression he desires, it is better for 
him to stop, than to weaken what has gone 
before, by a pretty peroration. 

Seldom have we heard Dr. Liefchild close a 



144 REV. JOHN LIEFCHILD, D.D. 

sermon, without doing so by the repetition of 
some verse or hymn, or a piece of sacred poe* 
indeed he is fond of extracting copiously from 
the best bards in the course of his sermons. He 
is an admirable reciter of verse, and aiwa 
gives " bits" from the best authors. 

We may add, in conclusion, that Dr. Lief- 
child' s platform speeches are not a whit inferior 
to his pulpit efforts, in regard to effectivene^ : 
but on such occasions he at all times gives fl 
to a vein of genuine humour, which always 
" tells T His dry sarcasms, too, are not unfre- 
quent ; but they are always employed in the 
cause of truth, and are generally free from ill- 
nature. Over his present congregation he has 
presided twenty-four years, he having quit: e i 
Bristol for Craven Chapel in 1827. Before his 
Bristol pastorate, he was minister of the Inde- 
pendent Chapel at Kensington. 



145 



WESLEYAN ' ; CELEBRITIES." 

A MAY MEETING SKETCH IX EXETER HALL. 

It is a glorious morning in the " merrv month 

SOW 

of May," as a thousand and one rhymers have 
termed that pleasant season. The London sky 
as yet is not obscured by the canopy of smoke 
which usually prevents our beholding yon 
" ambient azure arch" of Young ; for the 
weather is so mild, that thousands of families 
have ceased to kindle any other than their 
kitchen fires, thus greatly diminishing the fuli- 
ginous supply. The awkward apologies for 
vegetation, which are here and there to be seen 
in the metropolis, display in their half-and-half 
way, the genial influences of the season ; and 
we are reminded of pleasant wanderings in 
country lanes, by the occasional invitation of 
casual purveyors of May-blossom, which also 



146 

make the street fragrant. Hundreds and hun- 
dreds of gaily-dressed folks are frantically rush- 
ing to the various steam-boat piers, intent on a 
jaunt for the day to Gravesend, or Greenwich ; 
or to Kew, or Hampton Court. The Stream 
of Pleasure, in the great thoroughfares, runs 
through the Ocean of Commerce ; and, to a 
discriminating eye, it is as easy to pick out the 
holiday current, as it is for the mariner of the 
West to ascertain, by its appearance and 
warmth, that strange phenomenon, the Gulf- 
stream, which has truly been styled a sea- 
river, as it arises in, and preserves its own 
current w T ithin, accurately discernible and defi- 
nable boundaries; pursues its mysterious course 
for thousands of miles through the ocean, losing 
itself, at last, in the World-of-waters. We, 
however, chained to the oar, or rather to the- 
pen, may not join the happy crowds who are 
about to seek the pure air of the country. 
With note-book in our pocket, and a reserve of 
well-pointed pencils, w T e rush, on stenographic 
thoughts intent, to Exeter Hall ; for there a 
great meeting is to be held, and within two 
hours after its termination, every word which 
may be uttered must be printed and published, 
and flying along, at the rate of seventy miles 



WESLEYAN " CELEBRITIES," 147 

an hour, through many a portion of the length 
and breadth of " merrie England." 

With an "inward groan" at the necessity 
which compels us, on this bright glad morning, 
to six mortal hours of toil, in a crowded, heated 
place, we hurry through Temple Bar, rush 
along the Strand, and skirting the dense mass 
of persons who meet half-way across the road, 
and are progressing towards Exeter Hall, at 
the rate of an inch in five minutes, we seek a 
side door, and in a trice find ourself, in com- 
pany with a dozen other unfortunates, in the 
Reporters' 1 box. Already is the immense build- 
ing filled, and already fat folks are panting and 
perspiring. Certainly, by-and-bye, when the 
heat increases, some of those corpulent Christians 
will melt, as it is said an unlucky individual, of 
large proportions, in New Orleans, one very 
hot day did, and that so suddenly, that the 
friend who was conversing with him a moment 
before, could discover no other trace of him but 
a pool of grease on the pavement. 

They who for the first time see the outside 
of Exeter Hall, with its high fluted pillars 
bounding an extremely narrow entrance, are 
apt to suppose that the Hall itself must be but 
a small place. No supposition could be more 



US 



WESLEYAN " CELKBRI' 



erroneous. Pass between the pilfers — -aso 
one of the nights of st: : within 

lofty doors — and lo ! a vast area capable 
ofcemamin;: upward, o: feu: tb : vj?. 



-ou. The sha 



)M : 



atone end is a gallery — at the other a large 
platform, with raised seats, an " : fry :rgam 
^ hen the place is crowded, the -- : ew from the 
platform is magnificent. 

flay, as pxduau all ou: >w, is the 

great " Anniversary** month in London. From 
its commencement to its close not a lay dapses. 
but the annual meeting of some Benevolent 
Society is held in Exeter Hall. There are 
always two on each day — sometimes three. : 
occasionally four : for in ou: ufpoion of 
building, we omitted to say that there is : uu 
Hall immediately beneath the larger one. : 
often meetings are held in both simultaneouslv. 



bourhood of Exeter Hall is a centinual bustle. 
From all parts of the country come meml uo 
of the religious community. A Lembouer's 
practised eye detects the strangers in almost 
every leading street, by the freshness of th 
faces, the showiness of some of the ladies* 
dresses, or the awkward cut of "some of the 



WESLEY AN " CELEBRITIES. " 149 

gentlemen's clothes." Every tenth man you 
meet in the Strand is a parson of some denomi- 
nation or other. Some venerable and feeble — 
some middle-aged, sleek, and pompous — some 
so humble, to all appearance, that we are re- 
minded of "the Devil's darling Sin,* though 
we do not mean to impute the possession of 
it to any — some young and foppish — some 
juvenile and clumsy. But be they young, 
middle-aged, or old, they have a peculiarity of 
appearance which is unmistakable. All sport 
the white " choke ;" all are attired in black ; 
all have a grave look : — in short, the Parsonic 
stamp is affixed upon the physiognomies and 
figures of each and all. 

To-day the Anniversary Meeting of the 
Wesleyan Missionary Society — a society, we 
believe quite as extensive in its operations as 
any one other of a similar nature, is to be held ; 
and no wonder is it, considering what a multi- 
tude of followers John Wesley has in Great 
Britain, that such a great gathering should take 
place this day. From end to end of the 
spacious apartment there is not a vacant spot. 
Viewed from our position, the scene is striking — 
the dresses of the ladies, and the bright many- 
coloured ribbons in their bonnets, pleasantly 
i 2 



150 WESLETAN '-CELEBRITIES. * 

contrasting with the sober attire of the gentle- 
men ; for. gentle reader, we assert that the 
Wesleyan ladies are quite as fond of a bit of 
gaiety as their sisters of other sects. Show us 
one of the fair disciples of Wesley whose eyes 
will not grow brighter at sight of a i; dove of 
a ribbon, " or an "angel of a pattern." or who 
will conscientiously prefer a "dowdy" bonnet 
to a smart production of Yyse's. and then we 
will believe that religion has a tendency to 
destroy or change taste, but not till then. 

Eleven o'clock is indicated on the face of the 
Hall clock, and now the stamping of feet is 
heard. Whether an entertainment is to be 
theological or theatrical, an audience is always 
impatient, and terribly anxious that it should 
begin. So they go on thumping, the peals 
growing louder and louder, until a string of 
gentlemen make their appearance on the plat- 
form, headed by some men bearing white wands. 
and then the thumping applause bursts forth, 
blent with such a clapping of hands, that the 
reception of Jenny Lind would be alone com- 
parable with it. 

For a moment it ceases — but again it arises 
with redoubled force. What is the reason \ 
Simply this. Do you not see how the men 



WESLEYAX " CELEBRITIES/' 5 151 

with the white wands are, with the profoundest 
respect, escorting a gentleman to the chair. 
That gentleman is a piece of fine porcelain — 
not like us, made of the common crockery of 
humanity — in other words, he is a lord. So, 
of course, great applause greets him ; and the 
very ministers on the platform seem to look on 
him with reverential eyes — and then they gaze 
on each other and smile, seeming to say — "There 
— it's a fifty pound note in the plate at least :" 
and one or two of them approach the great 
man, who shakes hands with them — and two or 
three others officiously settle the chair comfort- 
ably for him ; and then his lordship sits down, 
and the business of the meeting commences. 

A hymn is sung — a prayer is offered up — 
the " Report" is read, and the chairman 
addresses the meeting. We shall not, how- 
ever, occupy our time, or the reader's patience, 
by sketching either his lordship, or his lord- 
ship's speeches, he being no Wesley an cele- 
brity. Enough to say, it is very good, but 
very dull. 

" The Rev. Dr. Newton will move the 
first resolution," announces the secretary, and 
forthwith the applause is tremendous and long- 
continued ; for Robert Newton is one of the 



152 WESLEYAX 

"great guns" of Wesleyanism. More than 
once, we believe, has he filled the highest office 
in the Methodist connexion, that of President 
of the Conference ; and for many years past 
he has been a highly popular preacher. Nor, 
seemingly has time diminished that popularity; 
for his welcome is as warm as when we first 
saw him on a platform, 

The applause almost dies away — but again 
is it renewed as the object of it rises from his 
chair : while he stands, let us occupy ourself 
by sketching one of the magnates of the 
Wesleyans. 

With that air of self-possession, which can 
only be acquired by years of practice, and 
repeated appearances before the public, Dr. 
Newton stands, with folded arms — one hand 
grasping the resolution which he is about to 
move. Some men, unused to such rapturous 
receptions, would blush, or bow, or fidget on 
their feet, or twiddle their fingers, or, worse 
than all, simper their self-gratification. Not 
so this veteran of Methodism. He appears to 
care no more for the boisterous laudation than 
for a blue-bottle buzzing about his ears. One 
would suppose from his air and bearing, that 
he deemed it no more than his due, and would 



WESLEYAH "CELEBRITIES.'' 153 

be satisfied with no less. We do not assert 
that such are his opinions, we only judge from 
appearances. 

He is tall, muscular, and eminently com- 
manding in appearance. His head is remark- 
ably striking ; and a painter about to sketch 
apostolically might find in that face no bad 
study. When the hair was blacker than now, 
it would have been still more valuable to the 
limner. The,!. Xewton might, suitably draped, 
have stood as a model for John the Baptist 
preaching in the wilderness. The complexion 
of the face is swarthy — a rich, warm swarthi- 
ness ; eyes of stern blackness flash beneath 
bushy thick brows ; a nose large and promi- 
nent, bears out Xapoleon in his assertion, that 
men in whom the nasal organ is large or long, 
are generally, of a superior order. About the 
mouth and chin there is not much to notice. — 
The cheeks are furnished with whiskers, which 
curve towards the angles of the mouth. Place 
all these features on your imagination canvass, 
reader, and to them add a chest and limbs 
which might have belonged to a gladiator, and 
you will be enabled to form some idea of the 
Rev. Robert Xewton. 

The orator, still having his arms folded, 



154 

plants his right foot in advance of his left, and 
in a deep, solemn tone, commences his address. 
The voice is so deep, that it appears to issue 
from the very bottom of his capacious chest. — 
For some ten minutes he proceeds in this man- 
ner; then, suddenly uplifting his arms, he 
begins to be energetic. His eves flash — his 
form dilates, and his face becomes wonderfully 
varied in its expression. Now we see him to 
advantage. One moment, his voice is so soft, 
that it requires some exertion to catch the sen- 
tence, and, immediately afterwards, it thunders 
through the hall. But he does not bawl, as 
we have heard some do. Loud as the tones 
are, they are not unpleasant, — -just as the deep 
peals of an organ do not distress, but solemnise. 
Without hesitating for a moment, the speaker 
proceeds — the fountain of language appearing 
to be exhaustless, It is stern, vigorous elo- 
quence, without coarseness or vulgarity — yet, 
after all, not refined. Imagine Demosthenes, 
divested of his classicality, on a Wesleyan 
platform, and you may form some faint idea of 
Dr. Newton's style, The fault of the reverend 
gentleman, in speaking, is an appearance of 
pomposity. We cannot help thinking, as we 
listen to him. that he is aware he is a leader of 



WESLEYAN "CELEBRITIES." 153 

his sect. This, however, may be the result of 
habit rather than of inclination. 

Nearly an hour has elapsed, and the doctor 
is still w on his legs,"' but his auditory do not 
seem to be at all tired of him. At length, 
however, after a wind-up, which bears the 
stamp of preparation, it being a little grandi- 
loquent, he moves the resolution amidst ; * loud 
and lon£ continued cheering." 

Some few years since, Dr. Newton went to 
America, in company with another eminent 
Vresleyan divine, as a deputation from the 
Methodist body in this country to their 
brethren in the New World. There he was a 
prodigious favourite, at least in those parts of 
the Union where energetic speaking is in 
request. Whole on a visit to that country, 
since the doctor's sojourn there, we heard much 
of him. In the city of Boston, the head- 
quarters of intellectual preaching, he was not 
so much appreciated as in places where Boan- 
erges of the pulpit are esteemed great thinkers ; 
for in the capital of Massachusetts, almost all 
the pulpit orators are refined speakers. Dr. 
Gannett, the successor of Dr. Channing, scarcely 
ever raises his voice above a certain low,, musical 
tone ; neither does the Kev. Edward Kirk, the 



156 WESLEYAN " CELEBRITIES." 

highly-valued Presbyterian preacher ; nor the 
celebrated Theodore Parker, the heterodox 
orator : but in places farther south, sound fre- 
quently goes for sense. An individual in New 
York, speaking of Dr. Newton's first sermon 
in that city, said to me — " Wal, I guess as 
that ar British Methody is a first-rater; he could 
come out long chalks anvhow vou could fix it. 
T'other chap as come from the old country, 
from your Convention, warn't fit to brush his 
pants, and no two twos about it.* But the big 
un — he went the whole hog. Every word as 
he dropped weighed a paound !" We confess 
we never heard speechifying estimated by 
weight before. The Yankee's illustration 
reminded us of that of an old lady, who, 
wishing to describe a very bright moonlight 
night, informed her friend that " it was as 
light, sir — as light, sir — as — a cork /" 

As a preacher, Dr. Newton is greatly 
esteemed amongst the body to which he 
belongs : but we think we do not err in saying 
that his vast influence in the direction of the 
affairs of the Methodist connexion is at present 
that which constitutes his chief power. He 

* The American alluded to Dr. Xewton's colleague in 
the deputation. 



WESLEYAN " CLEBitlTIES." 157 

looks and speaks like one fond of dominion, 
and if what his opponents — the " Reformers" 
of the Wesleyans, assert to be true — lie is a 
very Napoleon of his sect* With religious 
squabbles we, however, have nothing to do ; and 
so we bid farewell to Dr. Newton, and leave him 
on his chair, looking as cool, and apparent!} 7 as 
unfatigued, as when he commenced his ani- 
mated speech. 

The resolution is seconded by a young gen- 
tleman, w T ho, it is evident, has yet to acquire 
name and fame. He rises very modestly, and 
in a sort of namby-pamby manner, and with a 
soft voice, begs to second the resolution " which 
has been so eloquently moved." He further begs 
to state that, " after what has been so ably 
said, he will not detain the meeting," which, 
by the way, no one expected that he would do. 
And he sits down — -about six people in the 
body of the meeting, and three on the platform, 
making faint attempts to applaud. No one 
asks his name, and only one person looks 
particularly pleased— and that is a young lady, 
who, we fancy, from certain whisperings to a 
confidential friend, imagines that " Edward 
spoke beautifully." The young enthusiast 
may be a sister, or a something dearer to the 



15S REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT, M.D. 

nameless seconder of the resolution : we - 
not presume to gness which, though we have a 
strong opinion on the subject. 

The announcement, by the secretary, thai a 
second ministerial star is about to emerge from 
the dark cloud of Wesleyan gentry on the 
platform, and shine on the "million." is hailed 
with renewed plaudits ; and forthwith a] 
in front of the platform. 

THE REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT. M.D. 

" M.D. r perhaps rhe reader will exclaim, in- 
terrogatively. Yes — the initials which the 
Rev. Dr. Beaumont appends to his name are 
neither D.D.. D.C.L.. nor Ph.D.. but M.D.- 
the said initials signifying that he is one of 
those who have taken, what some term, pro- 
fanely, the degree of Man Destroyer ; and 
what others correctly and courteously term : 
Doctor of Medicine. In short. Dr. Beaumont 
is. or was. a physician. From some cause or 
other, with which we are unacquainted, he 
abandoned the healing of holies, and devoted 
his energies to the "core of souls." Flinrino 
aside the pestle, he entered the pal] 



REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT, M.D. 159 

deserting the scalpel for the Scriptures, he 
divided texts instead of tendons. The " Great 
Physician" Himself did not disdain to practise 
the healing art. and why should not a modern 
M.D. follow so illustrious an example I What 
Dr. Beaumont's qualifications as a medical 
man were, we have not had the curiosity to 
inquire ; but of one thing we are certain — if 
he acquitted himself as ably in the sick room, 
as he does in his present sphere of action, his 
patients have reason to look with envious eyes 
at the enjoyments of Dr. Beaumont's hearers. 
What the latter have gained, the former have 
lost. 

When we first " ran after" Dr. Beaumont, 
we, from previous reports, were fully prepared 
to hear and see something extraordinary, and 
we were not disappointed. Of itself, the appear- 
ance of a physician in the pulpit was sufficient 
to excite curiosity ; and we confess to the pos- 
session of about as much of that article (laud- 
able, of course) as any lady in the land. So to 
the Wesleyan Chapel, in Great Queen Street, 
we repaired ; and after not a little difficulty, 
wedged our person between a groaning old 
gentleman in a night-cap, and a deaf, ancient 
woman, on some planks, amongst the poor. 



160 REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT, M.D. 

Very well-to-do Methodist gentlemen and ladies 
went by, but none offered us a pew ; so we sat 
quietly and uncomplainingly until after the 
service, when a benevolent sextoness, who, per- 
chance, had heard us singing — 

"All ye that pass by, to Jesus draw nigh, 
To you is it nothing that Jesus should die V ' 

with unusual fervour, beckoned me off, and led 
me into a place where we could hear. How 
we pitied the poor old deaf lady we had left 
behind ; she had a cracked voice, and so did 
not attract the attention of the benevolent 
functionary. 

The sextoness, as she led us to the pew, sung 
without ceasing, and only nodded us to our 
place. It reminded us strikingly of a similar 
occurrence at the Church of St. Martin-in-the 
Fields, 

We went one evening to that church, whose 
portico, rather than its parsons, have made it 
famous, and being well dressed, Were eyed at 
once, and beckoned by the resplendent beadle. 
As he led us down the aisle, the service was 
being chaunted, and the beadle was one of the 
most devout choristers. 

Thus was it : — ■ 



REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT, M.D. 161 

Beadle (softly approaching us) — " Glory be 
to the Father, and to Seat, sir V 

We nodded affirmatively. 

Beadle — " The Son This way, sir." 

We followed in silence. 

Beadle — " And to the • Near the pulpit, 

sir?" 

" If you please," said we, 

Beadle — " Ho— o — o Thank you, sir." 

We had slipped a shilling into his hand : 
after he had salaamed us into a pew, we heard 
him, as he went back to the entrance, chaunting, 
with amazing vigour — 

" As it was in the beginning, is now, and 
ever shall be — world without end. Amen." 

We had a strong suspicion that the beadle's 
thoughts ran, that moment, upon the perpetuity 
of fees to church officials ; but we rather fancy 
that he, as well as the twopenny vergers of St. 
Paul's will soon find out their mistake. 

To revert to Dr. Beaumont . 

When he opened the Bible with a sort of 
I-know-all-about-you air, we never were so 
much, in all our lives, disposed to find fault. 
There seemed an assumption of superiority in 
the preacher's manner which, as yet, we could 
pot understand. The Bible, we had from early 



162 REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT. M.D, 

childhood, been taught to consider so precious 
a book, that not only should it be read, but 
approached reverentially. Our first — our last 
— our only schoolmaster — saying that great 
schoolmaster — the World — one William Harris 
Harding, who, we are sure, felt a pleasure in 
whipping us for the benefit of posterity, would 
never put his hat on the Bible. This might 
have been carrying matters a little too far. 
Then we thought not so, and lampooned the 
good man, of whose good deeds, forgetting 
flagellations, we have a fragrant recollection. 
The schoolmaster of Jubilee Place, — long since 
gone to his account — an account which, if as 
justly made up in Heaven as on earth, will 
leave a balance in his favour. If he was not 
so learned as the schoolmaster of Oliver Gold- 
smith, whose pupils wondered that 

" One small head could carry all he knew/' 

he at least taught all he thought necessary for 
the advancement of those pupils destined for 
the counting-house, of whom we were one. 
From his, what we then deemed petty tyranny, 
we escaped to undergo the despotism of a mer- 
chant, who, presuming on his position, was 
cruelly kind ; — a man who, by a series of 



REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT, M.D. 163 

puerile political hypocrisies and mercantile mis- 
takes, became a laughing-stock ; a semi-mad- 
man, whose heart would need all the soap ever 
made in Fripp's factory to " purge it thoroughly" 
■ — bat, by that ancient saint, St. Christopher, 
of Saint Abbot, we really do not believe that 
he could be washed white ! Honest school- 
master of ours ! We respect thee, our first 
guider of the pen, as much as we detest him — 
the slave-driver — the aggrandizer — and the 
Harlequin ! 

How strange that the Bible should lead us 
into such digressions J but vagrancy, whether 
of the pen or population, scorns laws. 

Dr. Beaumont commences his sermon. At 
first we cannot tell what he is driving at ; he 
seems as one struggling with thinking — a 
mental Hercules in his cradle, (were Sir 
Joshua to depict him !) He flings out the 
ideas suggested by his text — he literally flings 
them out — there is not the grace of the sling 
in his action. But there are stern, strong, 
hard truths uttered for all that. He warms up 
— his voice, dissonant and disagreeable, becomes 
familiar, and you forgive (you cannot forget) 
the ruggedness for the sake of the gem it covers. 
On he goes — and now he begins to perspire— 



164 REV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT, M.D. 

beads — dews of thought, begin to appear on 
the summit of his mountainous forehead, and 
slowly — slowly they stream down— two and 
three streams, and four and five blending and 
forming one torrent, which trickles over his 
eyes-brows, and meander in wrinkled channels 
along his temples, until the doctor, in a fit of 
pulpit fury, utters a harsher sentence than 
ever — throws himself half out of the pulpit — = 
looks as though he had come from a fiery fur- 
nace, reeking with perspiration, and in the 
voice of an asthmatic stentor, cries — " Repent !" 

Dr. Beaumont is perspiratory as well as 
pious. When he throws his head and arms 
far over the cushion, he shakes his head fear- 
fully — from excitement, doubtless — but such 
earnestness is not always pleasant. A little 
friend of ours, though, once deemed it profit- 
able ; for, as the dews of sweat fell from Dr. 
Beaumont's forehead on him, he coolly took 
out his handkerchief and removed them. 

" They were the droppings of the sanctuary/* 
said the little fellow to his father at the evening 
exercise, and the invaded sanctity of the family 
service was forgiven for the sake of the un- 
studied remark. 

And now let us look at Dr. Beaumont on 
the platform, 



HEV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT. M.D. 165 

He is by no means brilliant in appearance — « 
rather the reverse. Some people might call 
him slovenly looking, and complain that he 
does not dress well. He does not, but he 
addresses well, and that is better. We have 
little love for pretty men, and far prefer 
roughness and raciness to smoothness and 
twaddle. Dr. Beaumont delights to astonish 
nervous hearers — at least one would think so, 
from his exuberant action. He has not so 
much opportunity for displaying it on the plat- 
form as in the pulpit, but he does his best, and 
sits down with a very angry expression of coun- 
tenance, which, after all, may be his way of 
looking pleasant. 

The Wesley ans may well be proud of Dr.. 
Beaumont. Unflinching and independent, he 
braved the Centenary folks in their own hall. 
He would not be put - down — and his influence 
has been most beneficial. In a word, were 
there more such men as Beaumont, Wesley-- 
anism would be all the better off. The mantle 
of " Billy Dawson' 1 might have fallen on less 
worthy shoulders. 

We are tempted to pen a reminiscence of 
that same remarkable Yorkshireman, but we 
4 ' speak of the living rather than of the dead." 

K % 



166 UKV. JOSEPH BEAUMONT, M,D. 

Dawson's pulpit pictures are bright in our me- 
mory ;— and the short thick-set old gentleman, 
putting his hat on the pulpit stairs — leaving 
his stick beside it, and then frightening his 
hearers into piety, will not soon be forgotten. 
Had we space we would pen other portraits. 
This pair must suffice for the present. On 
some future occasion we may " frame 11 a few 
more Wesleyan celebrities. 



167 



PULPIT POETS. 

THE REV. DRS. DALE, MTLMAN, AND CROLY.— 
GEOLOGY AND THEOLOGY.— DR. BUCKLAND, 

Among the pulpit orators of the present day,, 
&re many who are possessed of the " vision and 
the faculty divine," and not a few who are 
looked up to as stars in the hemisphere of 
Science : Poets, who have furnished us with 
strains now sung by the Church on earth ; 
and which, like the divine songs ot Isaac 
Watts, will, perhaps, only cease to be heard 
when the blast of the final trumpet shall sound 
loud and clear, hushing the voices of earth's 
awakening myriads, and almost deafening their 
ears to the roar of the universal conflagration i 
Three of the subjects of this chapter are— one 
of them, especially — Croly, no mean sounders 
of the lyre ; and the fourth is too well known 



168 PULPIT POETS. 

to every lover of scientific research, to require 
a prefatory remark. 

We first heard Mr. Dale, some seventeen 
years ago, when he was rector of the parish 
of St. Sepulchre, He was extremely popular, 
and at that time far more intimately connected 
than at present with literary pursuits. His 
name was "up" in the circle of lion-hunters, 
among whom, (for, at the period to which we 
refer, we were verdurous enough to be a popu- 
larity-seeker,) we might have been classed. 
Mr. Dale was a poet — a real live poet ; the 
editor of an Annual — -the Iris — and the author 
of some successful volumes in verse, This was 
quite enough to secure a congregation, and 
every Sunday, Saint Sepuchre's was besieged 
by an innumerable company of gazers, I fear 
I cannot with strict truth say, hearers. Of 
course, as in all similar cases, the bonnetted 
portion of the congregation was by far the 
most numerous. It is strange, but nevertheless 
true, that ladies are the real popular-parson 
makers ; and if the minister be at all poetical, 
and therefore susceptible, I imagine his situ- 
ation must be dangerous. How a sensitive 
young divine can stand unmoved in the pulpit, 
when a battery of bright eyes are in full play 



PULPIT POETS. ]fi9 

upon him, passes my comprehension. But 
this is digressive ; so gentle reader, I pray you 
accompany me to Saint Pancras Church, 
where the Rev. Mr. Dale is to preach. 

Not to the handsome and aristocratic-looking 
church of Saint Pancras which stands in the 
New Road, just opposite to the bottom of 
Seymour Street — an edifice whose caryatides 
puzzle thousands of the passers-by, and which 
an omnibus driver once gravely assured me 
were either the wise and foolish virgins, or the 
twelve apostles— he didn't exactly know which; 
but the parent church — yet not the original 
building either — for the present structure is 
built on the site, and is partly constructed of 
the materials of the ancient pile. In the inte- 
rior, too, as the quaint and venerable oak 
carvings have been retouched, and harmo- 
niously combined with new materials, the 
place, though partly modern, has a claim to be 
associated with the Past. It was on the 
occasion of the opening of the enlarged and 
renovated temple, that I visited it. 

There is stood, in all the glaring brilliancy 
of fresh freestone and sharp carving, and, its 
as yet smokeless Caen blocks, in the midst of 
the old church-yard; which w r as crowded with 



170 rot pit poets, 

mouldering memorials of the patriarchs of the 
parish, and with the newly-filled graves of little 
children, who were buried but yesterday. Its 
very newness was startling, when compared 
with the decay which reigned around it. The 
church which had been destroyed was one of 
our most ancient ecclesiastical edifices. Old 
Norden says of it— "Itte was not seconde ynne 
auntiquity, eenne to Seyncte Powles'. I 
visited it once prior to its demolition ; the time 
was autumn ; and the door being open, I 
entered, and seated myself in a pew lined with 
tattered cloth. And 

ei In truth it was a solemn sight, 

To see such church in the grey twilight, 

With its empty pews — its closed books ; 

And its carved saints in canopied nooks ; 

Its pulpit, with never a parson there ; 

Its clerk's desk, with no one to mutter a prayer ; 

Its organ hushed, and no girls nor boys 

To lustily sing with shrilly voice : 

All looked shadowy, quaint, and odd, 

In that hushed and desolate House of God." 



The bell has ceased to sound, and a primly- 
dressed sextoness, her face half-buried in the 



PULPIT POETS. 1 71 

frills of her mob-cap, ushers me into a pew ;— 
and now, the prayers being ended, the vicar 
ascends the pulpit. 

Mr. Dale's personal appearance is rather 
prepossessing. As far as I could judge, 
while his figure was enveloped in the folds 
of his ample gown, he appeared to be rather 
beneath than above the middle height. His 
face is plump and florid, and in this respect 
decidedly unpoetical, for the " rhyming race" 
have generally " lean and hungry looks," and 
are by no means Falstaffian in their figures. 
From beneath rather bushy, light-coloured eye- 
brows, glanced a pair of mild grey eyes. The 
forehead had nothing very remarkable about it, 
being neither very high — very low — very broad 
—nor very narrow — in fact it was a common- 
place forehead enough. The head was rather 
globular, and covered with hair of a silvery 
tint. The nose appeared to me to be rather 
too short for the laws of symmetry ; and the 
countenance, taken altogether, would have 
borne rather an insipid expression, had it not 
been redeemed from such by a decisiveness 
about the well- shaped mouth. Mr. Dale's 
figure, as I have hinted, shrouded as it was 
in canonicals, may be imagined, but not 



172 PULPIT POETS. 

described. The reader may call to mind that 
of any comfortable-looking clergyman of his 
acquaintance, as he stands in the pulpit, and 
he will not have a very incorrect representation 
of the outer man (the head excepted) of the 
Vicar of St. Pancras. Altogether he looked 
like a person who had gone very comfortably 
through a world which had treated him with a 
good deal of kindness and consideration. Yet. 
so inconsistent, and so prone to magnify trivial 
annoyances into serious misfortunes are poets. 
that from passages in Mr. Dale's works, one 
might imagine he had not passed through this 
" howling wilderness" of life, without having 
been scarified and lacerated by its thorns and 
briars ; and after all, he may have had his 
share of trouble, for that ;; man was made to 
mourn,' 1 is a rule to which even the incumbent 
of a rich metropolitan living can scarcely be 
expscted to form an exception. 

Poets are seldom good public speakers, 
Formerly, if I am not greatly mistaken, Mr, 
Dale used to preach extemporaneously — and he 
still occasionally does bo — but these efforts are 
not his most successful. On the occasion to 
which I now particularly refer, he read a pre- 
pared discourse. His voice was rather musical 



PULPIT POETS. 173 

and well modulated, and, although he read 
somewhat too rapidly, his enunciation was 
perfectly distinct. Still, the sermon reminded 
one too much of a lesson repeated by heart ; 
but it must be remembered that it was pre- 
pared for a specific occasion, and as there is, 
in these days, nothing remarkable in the open- 
ing of a new church, any thing very wonderful 
in the shape of an opening sermon could not 
reasonably be expected. 

To a frequent hearer of Mr. Dale, sameness 
is the distinguishing characteristic of his ser- 
mons ; an amiable calmness pervades all his 
compositions, — there is nothing to startle — 
nothing to dazzle — his style may be described 
as pleasing, if it cannot be declared to be pro- 
found. Simple and clear, if not very forcible, 
he makes himself understood, and appears to 
disdain the aid of oratorical flights, and the 
embellishment of rhetoric flash. Much pains 
seems to be taken in the composition of his 
sermons, and occasionally they are so highly 
polished that their force is lost in their gloss. 
He possesses an affluence of imagery, and his 
similes are always apt. If he never soars to a 
remarkable height, he never sinks beneath 
mediocrity ; from such a catastrophe his fine 



174 PULPIT POETS. 

taste preserves him. His manner, like his 
matter, is refined, and this admirably Emits 
him for his somewhat aristocratic hearers. 

Perhaps a better idea of Mr. Dale than I 
have hitherto succeeded in giving, may be con- 
veyed by contrasting him with one of his 
reverend contemporaries, who also will be 
sketched in this chapter, — I mean Dr. Croly. 
And in truth, a greater contrast than that pre- 
sented by these two clergymen, can scarcely be 
conceived. The author of " Salathiel," bold, 
burly, and brassy ; the gentleman whom we 
have been describing — soft, silky, and suasive : 
■ — the one reminding us of a Boanerges, or 
stout John Balfour of Burley — the other of a 
" silver-tongued Smith," or a mild Melanethon. 
- — Croly piles one ponderous sentence upon 
another, until a gorgeous temple is raised 
which bewilders us with its colossal propor- 
tions, — Dale erects a graceful fabric which 
glitters like a snow-palace in sunshine, and 
which is as evanescent too. Croly is grand — 
Dale pleasing ; — the one writes as with a quill 
plucked from an eagle's wing, — the other 
appears to use one which grew on the pinions 
of a dove. 

Having already referred to Old St. Pancraa 



DEAN MILMAX. 17-5 

Church Yard. I will just remark, for the infor- 
mation of those curious in such matters, that it 
is richer in the remains of celebrated men than 
almost any other place of sepulchre in London. 
There lies Woollett, the famous engraver ; 
Kelly, the dramatist ; and G-rimaldi, the clown 
of clowns ; together with many others of note ; 
and it was only a day or two since, that stroll- 
ing into the ground by accident, I saw the once 
celebrated Ramo Samee. the prince of jugglers, 
deposited within the shadow of the church 
tower. 



DEAN MILMAN. 

The name of the Rev. Henry Hart Milman 

must be a familiar one to every student of 
English poetry ; for, although his pen has lain 
idle for years past, his * ; Belshazzar" and " Fall 
of Jerusalem, n two sacred dramas, retain, if 
not all at least a considerable portion of their 
primitive popularity. Better known as a poet 
than a preacher, little has been written respect- 
ing him in the latter character, nor have I 
much to add to the existing stock of informa- 
tion. 



176 DEAN MILMAN. 

Every one knows where Westminster Abbey 
is situated, but comparatively few of those who 
visit that majestic edifice bestow a glance, 
much less a thought, on a structure which is 
go near, that, looking from Parliament Street 
it seems to be a portion of the Abbey itself. 
The humbler temple is the parish church of 
St. Margaret's, of which Mr. Milman is rector. 

The interiors of the Abbey and of its satellite 
church, present, as may be expected, from a 
survey of their exteriors, a striking contrast ; 
the vastness and gloomy grandeur of the former 
being in direct opposition to the smallness and 
lightsome appearance of the latter, which has, 
moreover, a modern air about it. The con- 
gregation is generally rather ;c stylish ;" and 
the number of portly-looking powdered-headed 
old gentlemen, who loll luxuriously in well- 
padded pews, suggests the idea of warm govern- 
ment situations and snug sinecures. Besides 
these there are to be seen a sprinkling of female 
fashionables, and a score or so of showily 
dressed middle-acred ladies who have a lodging- 
house look ; and the remainder of the congre- 
gation appears to be made up of tradespeople 
and their families, and of charity children and 
footmen. 



DEAK MILllJtN, 177 

Mr. Milman, or rather Dean Milman, for he 
has been lately promoted to the Deanery of 
St. Paul's, is tall, and of a graceful figure. 
Abundant hair, somewhat between iron-grey 
and silver, overshadows a high forehead — his 
eyebrows are black and bushy, and beneath 
them are a pair of jet-black eyes, which sparkle 
yet with all the brilliant vivacity of youth. I 
have seldom seen finer or more expressive orbs 
than those of Milman. The nose is slightly 
aquiline — the mouth small and well formed. 
On the whole, he reminded me of Southey, 
both in separate features, and in the combined 
expression. His shoulders were a little — a 
very little bowed, either by years or study, and 
he looked the Poet. There was an air of intel- 
lectual refinement about him which could not 
be mistaken. 

Dean Milman read his sermon— and he read 
it remarkably well. As a composition, it was 
elegant and classically correct, but it wanted 
those elements, without which a sermon by 
any one is merely a dry, dull essay. There 
was neither nerve, energy, nor fire. One could 
have listened to it until Doomsday without 
feeling affected by it. If one of the carved 
men of stone in the old abbey, hard by, had 



178 REV. GEORGE CROLY, D.C.L. 

walked from the niche into the pulpit of St. 
Margaret's, he might have preached just as cold 
a discourse. And yet all of it was true enough ; 
but that sort of discourse which one can neither 
praise nor blame seldom produces much effect. 
Better — far better a good sledge hammer 
oration, than one which merely consists of a 
series of tinkling truisms. But, bidding adieu 
to St. Margaret's, let us pay a visit to 



THE REV. GEORGE CROLY, D.C.L. 

In the parish church of St. Stephen, Walbrook, 
which is situated in an out-of-the-way thorough- 
fare at the back of the Mansion House, and 
which church is or was famous for its filthy 
condition, and for the warfare of its vicar 
with Alderman Gibbs, officiates the celebrated 
author of " Salathiel," " The Angel of the 
World," and, if report be true, of " Marston, 
or the Memoirs of a Statesman," which 
recently appeared in the pages of Blackwood's 
Magazine. 

Accompanied by a friend from America, 
who, having read Croly's works, was exceed- 
ingly desirous to hear him preach, I one 



REV. GEORGE CROLY, D.C.L. 179 

Sunday morning dived into Walbrook, ascended 
the flight of stone steps which led to the door 
of the church, and on the invitation of a 
grimy-looking old woman, entered the sacred 
edifice, and was conducted to a pew. The 
service had already commenced. From the 
literary reputation of the preacher, I had 
expected to find a crowded congregation ; but, 
to my utter surprise, three-fourths of the pews 
were untenanted, and the remainder had, on 
an average, about two persons each in them. 
There were half a dozen benches, and these 
were occupied by miserably old-looking charity 
children, frightfully dressed, and who appeared 
much as our great-grandfathers and great- 
grandmothers might be supposed to look, when 
surveyed through the wrong end of a telescope. 
Then there were some shivering souls in the 
livery of the workhouse, whose teeth chattered 
again, and who evidently were sincere when 
they proclaimed themselves to be i; miserable 
sinners." Everything and everybody looked 
damp and dingy, from the mahogany cherubs, 
smothered with dust, to the crack-voiced old 
clerk, who appeared to go through the service 
by heart ; for he never once, that I saw, 
removed his hands from his pockets to turn a 
leaf. 



180 REV. GEORGE CROLY, D.C.L. 

And no wonder the congregation was cold, 
for the church was damp and mouldy, and as 
dirty as though it had been shut up for a 
hundred years, and opened for the first time on 
that very morning. The clear, cold sunbeams 
of early December failed to pierce through the 
cobwebbed and crusted windows ; the upper 
portion of the sounding-board of the pulpit 
was inch-deep in dust ; the hangings of the 
pews were literally hangings, for they were 
tattered shreds ; and the stone pavement was 
reeking with moisture. 

" Why is not the organ played V asked my 
companion ; "I perceive one in the gallery. " 

" The salary of the organist is in arrears," 
said a gentleman, who overheard the query. 

" We arrange such things better in Boston, 
where we pay thirty thousand dollars a year 
for our church music and choirs," said the 
American ; and he spoke the truth. 

To resume :— - The church liturgy came to a 
conclusion ; and while another psalm was 
being quavered by the charity boys and girls, 
(no one else seemed to join in it,) a clergyman 
ascended the pulpit stairs, followed by a damp 
looking beadle, who closed the door after him, 
and then gravely retired into private life, 



REV. GUORGE CROLY, D.C.L. 181 

The psalm having been sung through, the 
preacher rose. He was tall, and, in the pulpit, 
appeared of Herculean proportions. Surmount- 
ing a broad, massive chest, was a head, 
massively shaped also, and connected with the 
trunk by a short, thick neck. This head was 
grandly formed ; and its fine, dome-like pro. 
portions, were distinct enough — it being but 
thinly covered with short, stubbly hair, of an 
iron-grey colour. Beneath a high and broad 
forehead, furrowed with deep, transverse lines? 
were two large gray eyes ; the nose was thick 
and large, and the mouth wide. An ample 
chin formed the lower portion of the face, 
whose chief expression was a mixture of 
confident boldness and severity. 

Scorning the aid of notes, Croly commenced 
his discourse without them, and closing the 
large Bible which lay on the cushion, he 
placed it on the seat behind him, and read oc- 
casionally from a smaller book which he held 
in his hand. Unlike most pulpit orators, who 
usually commence in a low tone of voice, and 
gradually increase its volume as they warm up 
to their subject, Dr. Croly's first w T ords were 
uttered in loud and sonorous tones, which 
echoed and re-echoed through the almost de- 



182 REV. GEORGE CROLY, D.C.L, 

serted building. His subject was one which 
led him incidentally to refer to the splendours 
of ancient Nineveh, and certainly such a mag- 
nificent specimen of word-painting I never be- 
fore heard. Listening to him was like reading 
scenes from his own gorgeously-eloquent "Sala- 
thiel," or perusing the Kevelations by flashes 
of lightning. With a perfectly marvellous 
command of language, he described the glories 
of the now ruined cities, and with amazing 
fluency heaped splendour upon splendour ; 
until, as the eye grows dazzled by gazing on 
the changing pomp of a tropical sunset, when 
the amber and vermilion-hued clouds, piled on 
each other, assume a thousand fantastic shapes, 
so the mind became satiated by his numerous 
and superb illustrations. It was grand, but 
we may have too much even of grandeur. 
What the poor ignorant old workhouse people, 
and the shivering charity children thought of 
their minister's discourse, or how much the 
staid and sober parishioners were benefited by it, 
it is not for me to say: but I certainly thought 
that something less magnificent, and a little 
better suited to simple comprehension, would 
have been more in place. 

That Croly is a man of vast powers, and is 



REV. GEORGE CROLY, D.C.L. 183 

possessed of a mind of gigantic grasp, his works 
testify — and that he is prodigiously energetic, 
both his sermons and his platform-speeches suf- 
ficiently prove ; but he is not a great preacher — 
the sphere for the exercise of his talents is not 
the pulpit ; and on the platform he allows his 
violent political feelings, and warm temper, to 
run away with his judgment. There are very 
many ministers who do not possess a tithe of 
his intellect, who are a hundred times more 
attractive, as preachers, than the Vicar of St. 
Stephen's, Walbrook. 

Croly is, or was, the conductor of the " Bri- 
tannia," weekly newspaper, but of him in that 
capacity we shall have nothing to say, — not 
that we have the fear of the editorial lash before 
our eyes ; but simply because the " sayings 
and doings " of the chiefs of the " fourth estate" 
do not come within our prescribed plan. Since 
the above was written, St. Stephen's, Wal- 
brook, has been restored to its former splendour ; 
and Alderman Gibbs, half ruined by ligitation, 
has resigned his aldermanic gown. 



184 



THE REV. W. AUCKLAND, D.D., 

BEAN OF WESTMINSTER. 

The public were not a little surprised when. 
some few years ago, the author of one of the 
best of the "Bridge water Treatises." the Pro- 
fessor of Geology, in the University of Oxford, 
and a fellow of the Royal Society, was app rioted 
Dean of Westminster. Dr. Buckland had 
frequently astonished ladies at the meetings of 
the British Association, by his learning, and 
startled sober-minded people by his observa- 
tions respecting the age of the earth ; but no 
one was aware that he had thrown any new 
light on Theology, or on any branch of Biblical 
knowledge, or had done anything indeed in the 
Divinity line, which might entitle him to such 
a high position in the Establishment. 

No one, who saw for the first time, the Dean 
of Westminster, would have taken him for a 



11EV. W. BUCKXAND, D.B, 185 

grave dignitary of the Church, and still less 
likely might he have been to have classed him 
among the first philosophers of his age. So 
far from the learned doctor being made "lean 
and leaden-eyed/ by much thinking, or ren- 
dered sour and cynical by fasting and watching, 
he rather reminded one of " Friar Tuck." That 
florid — plump— good-natured, and placid face 
of his, had nothing of controversial obstinacy, 
or monkish ascetism about it. Just observe 
him as he stands in the pulpit : his head and 
temples are quite bald, giving to his shining 
forehead the appearance of a most ample 
developement ; the eyes are of a light blue, and 
very lively in their expression ; the nose is well 
shaped, and the mouth expressive of great good 
humour. From the man possessing such a 
physiognomy, one might reasonably expect a 
spirited, lively discourse. Alas ! Alas ! if the 
worthy doctor had found the sermon he is 
preaching, in one of the stones which he had 
chipped from some quarry with his geological 
hammer, it could not have been drier, How 
is it that nearly all scientifically-learned men 
are such heavy preachers 2 Why, a fifth-rate, 
shallow-pated fellow will prate by the hour, 
and enlist attention, whilst another who has 
l 2 



186 REV. W. AUCKLAND, D.D. 

forgotten more than many a less clever man 
learned, will send you comfortably off to sleep 
after opium has failed. 

Buckland was a capital lecturer on his 
favourite science — Geology. — There he was at 
home, and would keep up attention for hours, 
whilst he discoursed of Ichthyosauri, Plesiosauri, 
Iguanadons, and Mastodons, and such like 
antediluvian monsters ; but as a preacher he is 
already forgotten. — He will have a stony im- 
mortality — but in the gallery of great preachers 
he will assuredly have hereafter no niche 
assigned him. 

I had written thus far, when I was informed 
that Doctor Buckland's labours, even in his 
own favourite field, are, in all probability for 
ever terminated. As in the case of Southey 
" much learning has made him mad," and sad 
it is to have to record the fact, that the lamp 
of his mind is extinguished. Doctor Buckland 
is now hopelessly insane. — Softening of the 
brain, consequent on profound study, has re- 
duced him to the pitiable state in which he 
at present lingers. 



187 



THE REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D. 

If, reader, you will take the trouble to go as 
far as Finsbury, and ask any of the policemen 
for " The Tabernacle," you will find an 
awkward-looking building, and be told, pro- 
bably, that it is Dr. Campbell's chapel. 

It, however, is not Dr. Campbell's — but 
Whitfield's, for the immortal George has the 
highest claim to the building. And if you 
will enter the chapel, reader, you will see a 
portrait of the great man near the vestry — the 
picture of a, Saint, to whose portrait-presence 
in such a place, the most violent Anti-Puseyite 
would not object. 

A few years since we paid a visit to Whit- 
field — to George Whitfield in his grave. Start 
not ! — we shook, or rather held, his hand. 
That hand, which once waved so gracefully, 
rattled within our fleshy digits. We held his 



188 REV. JOHX CAMPBELL. D.D. 

skull, Hamlet-like, in our grasp, and saw the 
eyeless sockets, and nose without cartilege, and 
the tongueless mouth. We saw all that Time 
had spared of George Whitfield — the few 
bones which the Destroyer had not as yet 
destroyed. 

We will, before particular allusion to Di\ 
Campbell, tell the story of our introduction to 
the dead Whitfield, for, as Washington Irving 
says of Shakspere's dust, " it was something 
to have seen it." Here then is our 

Visit to WityffitW* Fault 

From the good and much beloved city of 
Boston to the little town of Newburyport is 
but a pleasant afternoon's ride. That ride 
ended in as delightful a tea-drinking as we can 
remember ; and whilst the chatter-water was 
merrily going its round, a gentleman asked us 
if we should like to see Whitfield's bones. 

Of course, we said we should, not for one 
moment imagining that he was in earnest, 
But he was— for he offered to show them to us 
at once— so off we went, 

It was one of those lovely evenings unknown 
in England, and uncertain in America, The 



REV. JOHN CAMPBELL. D.D. 189 

Indian summers golden haze was over ; leaf, 
and tree, and flower, and the earth appeared, 
as I should suppose it appeared, on some 
Paradise morning. The graceful Alanthus, 
stood out clearly defined against a sky of amber ; 
and only the shrill chirping of the katydids 
disturbed the silence. Mirrored in a little 
lake were the flowers of the Celantata, and 
around their scarlet petals hovered humming 
birds, making rainbows with their wings. It 
was a scene over which Peace might have 
waved its angel pinion, and then gone on its 
way rejoicing. 

And yet we were going to the Cham el House ! 

" That, sir," said our friend, "is the abode 
in which Whitfield died." 

We stood, and with deep interest surveyed 
the cottage — for it was little better. A 
simple, one-storied affair, with a trellised porch, 
and a trumpet-vine clambering over it, and 
around the front of the dwelling, will convey 
some idea of Whitfield's last earthly dwelling- 
place. 

" I should like to see the room in which 
Whitfield died," was our spoken thought ; 
and, with a polite determination, if possible, 
to visit it, we forthwith rapped at the door, and 



190 REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D. 

a neatly-attired lady immediately opened the 
same. 

What need for relating the particulars of the 
polite request, and the courteous compliance ? 
Following our hostess, we tripped up twenty 
steps or so. and were shown into a small room 
about ten feet square. It was directly over 
the entrance door. 

" That is where the chair was placed when 
Mr. Whitfield died in it, v said the lady, and 
she pointed to a square space on the floor, 
which had been carefully marked out. 

Whitfield, it appeared, had been suddenly 
attacked by his old complaint — asthma, and 
feeling his end approaching, he called to his 
servant, and begged him to help him to an 
arm-chair, which was close to a window. 
Gaspingly, the great man was conveyed to his 
last resting-place, and, supported by his faith- 
ful attendant, he looked on Earth's landscape 
for the last time. 

What were George Whitfield's thoughts, as 
he took his last glance at the world ? Who 
can tell I The record of a splendid career may 
have unfolded itself before the man's vanity, and 
may have perished like a scroll in the blaze of 
the Christian's sublime vet humble faith. 



UEV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D, 191 

Doubtless, lie felt at that awful moment, the 
great consolation of having been the honoured 
instrument of leading souls to his Master — 
that Master whom he had served so long, so 
faithfully, and so well. And what brighter 
prospect can man have when "the enemy 
comes in like a flood,'" than glimpses of angels 
— glorified spirits, who, it may be, are per- 
mitted to wait for, and welcome, to the Eden 
of the Blest, the Labourer in G-od's Vineyard 
— the man who, like the Pastor of Goldsmith, 

"Allured to brighter worlds — and led the way." 

We sat down in the very chair in which 
Whitfield died ; with a very reverence for that 
chair — a greater reverence than ever Romanist 
felt for the four-legged imposture of St. Peter's ; 
and we endeavoured to realise the scene in that 
room, when his ;i mortal put on immortality." 
Ministering angels appeared to float around us, 
and we enthusiastically imagined that we heard 
the waving of their pinions. Then our dream 
changed, and we saw the holy man emancipated 
from the prison-house of flesh — waving his 
palm and wearing his crown, and with the 
Elders, laying them at His feet. 



192 ItEV. JOHN CAMPBELL. D.B. 

Knowledge in Heaven ! We believe that 
when the crystal gates unfold, we shall behold 
the loved — the lost — the gone before. We 
feel that in the world of light we shall " know 
even as we are known." And we are assured 
that our friends will meet us at the Golden 
Gate, if we ourselves should be happy enough 
to reach it. 

Shall we, when Death has closed this life's career, 

Know those in Heaven we loved or honoured here ? 

Behold again, the friends who went before, 

O'er Jordan's swelling stream, to Canaan's shore ? 

Our journies ended — all our sorrows o'er, 

Shall we — reviewing, wonder and adore ? 

See how affliction, like a silver chord, 

Drew back our wandering spirits to the Lord ? 

Revealed the mercies of a Saviour-King, 

When Faith was drooping on a folded wing ? 

Or on some message from the Eternal Throne 

Descend to hush the sigh — prevent the groan, — 

To hover o'er the dwellings of the just, 

Cheering some spirit while it dwells with dust — 

Bear comfort to some worn and aching heart, 

And act at once a friend's and angel's part ; 

Or to some weary and afflicted breast 

Whisper — " Oh ! Mourner, this is not your rest." 

What streams of pleasure from God's fountains flow, 
From us is hidden — we must die to know. 
But Faith — with Prophet eye beholds afar 
Beyond the grave — the bright and Morning Star — 



REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D. 198 

Whose steady rays dispel the cheerless gloom, 
And shed a glory o'er the awful tomb ! 
Now through a glass we darkly see the shore 
AVhere Death is dead — where Sin can tempt no more ; 
And scorning Earth's delights, desire to dwell 
"With holy souls in light ineffable. 



And we shall meet, beneath that cloudless sky, 
With those whose names on earth shall never die ! 
What bliss to roam those Heavenly fields among, 
And hear of Abraham's faith, from Abraham's tongue! 
Converse with him whose voice delayed the sun ; 
Learn wisdom from the lips of Solomon : 
Him shall we meet, who here was poor and blind, 
Yet Sovereign of the vast domain of Mind : 
Illustrious Milton ! — or with Bunyan quaint 
Trace the long journey of some Pilgrim Saint. 
Here humble tones of adoration fall 
From him whose thunders shook the Capitol : 

Mark rapt Isaiah's look of holy fire, 

Or list to melodies from David's lyre ; 

And Him of Patmos view, to whom 'twas given 

On Earth, to lift the veils of Hell and Heaven ! 

In Heaven, all feeling — genius unrepressed, 
Shall thrill, exalt, expand the unburdened breast ; 
Then shall some wondrous lyre, which here below, 
Gave scarce a note, except the note of woe, 
No more by sorrow warped, by envy jarred, 
Breathe all the lofty spirit of the bard. 
M 



194 REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D. 

And then, too, 

In the presence of the Great adored, 

Again the Spouse shall meet the Spouse deplored ; 

Sister and brother form the ring again, 

And parted lovers bind the broken chain ; — 

Fathers amid their gathered children rest, 

And tender mothers bless them and be bless' d. 

We have been induced to make these ex- 
tracts from a poem written by us, many years 
ago, but hitherto remaining in unblest manu- 
script, by our reminiscence of George Whit- 
field's " Tabernacle/' We must now leave the 
room in which he died, and visit the place in 
which his bones lie. 

About four hundred yards from the house in 
which this celebrated man breathed his last, is 
a small meeting-house — -just such an humble- 
looking chapel as we often meet with in 
obscure English villages. The sexton, a 
very old man, lived next door to it, and, 
with keys in hand, he accompanied us to the 
interior. 

" Are there any persons in Newburyport who 
remember Whitfield ?" we asked. 

" I do," replied the sexton. " IVe heard 
him preach in this very chapel, and on the 
Green outside, on summer Sunday evenings — 



REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D. 195 

Mr. Whitfield liked out-door sermons ; and, 
more than that, sir, I saw him die." 

From further inquiries, we learned that the 
old man had been hurriedly called to assist in 
moving Whitfield from his bed-room to the 
little chamber before described, and that there 
he witnessed his death. 

A candle was now lighted, and, following the 
old man, we entered a dark chamber — so it 
appeared — on the left of the pulpit. The old 
man led us to a corner of this place, and, with 
shaking hand, pointed out a coffin, which was 
unprovided with a lid. At one end of this 
coffin was a skull, and a heap of bones tumbled 
carelessly together. 

" That is George Whitfield," said the old 
man, solemnly. 

It was even so : that heap of rubbish and 
dust was all that remained of the greatest 
preacher of his age. We took the skull in our 
hands, with a strange feeling of awe, and ex- 
amined it closely. — It was quite entire, and 
remarkably well-shaped, and a phrenologist 
might have found on its bony surface an ample 
and interesting field for investigation. We, 
however, having no belief in that science (!) 
did not employ our time in hunting after organs. 



196 REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D, 

It struck us as being a disgraceful thing that 
the remains of such a man should be thus ex- 
posed to the gaze of idle curiosity, in an open 
coffin. — Common decency might dictate a lid, 
at least. The corpse of John Wesley was re- 
verentially deposited in an honoured grave — 
should that of his great contemporary be 
dishonoured ? 

" But all his bones are not here," said the 
old man, shaking his head. 

We were at a loss to know what he meant, 
and inquired, 

" Why, sir, a gentleman, some twenty years 
ago, came to see these bones, and, while I 
turned my back for a minute, he stole one of 
his arms, and took it to England with him." 

Such was, indeed, the fact ; and Whitfield's 
arm, we have since ascertained, forms one of 
the chief attraction of a private museum. 

It is high time, however, to get back to the 
Tabernacle in Moorfields. 

It is a huge square building, with a very 
deep gallery running round each of its four 
sides, and in the pulpit stands the subject of 
our present sketch, Dr. Campbell. 

There is something peculiar in the doctor's 
personal appearance. Fancy a stout gentleman 



REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D. 197 

whose head is thatched with black hair, which, 
over the forehead, assumes the shape of what 
used to be called a " top-knot. 1 ' The eye- 
brows are very large and bushy, and beneath 
them is a pair of black keen-looking eyes. 
The nose is large, and the mouth has a dash 
of determination about it which almost amounts 
to obstinacy. Two huge shirt collars, and an 
enormous neck-kerchief, almost conceal the 
cheeks and chin. The general expression of 
the face is that of severity and harshness. 

Dr. Campbell's style of preaching is not 
what would please those who are fond of the 
graces of oratory. He is dictatorial and dog- 
matic, and at times his manner reminds us of 
that of a pedagogue. No one, however, can 
deny that he is a sound preacher, and a good 
man, and that he has very extensive circles of 
admirers. Considering him as a preacher, we 
candidly confess that we should have liked him 
better if he combined the suaviter in modo 
with the fortiter in re. 

Dr. Campbell has long been before the public 
as an author and an editor. He is a most 
industrious penman ; and, barring some little 
lack of courtesy in controversy, we have no 
fault to find with him in this respect, How- 



198 REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D. 

ever, none but editors know what trials of 
temper editors are subjected to. So to Dr. 
Campbell's failings we would 

" be a little blind, 
And to his virtues very kind," 

and leave him to lash us, if he likes, in his 
next article. 

The u Tabernacle," of late, has been a point 
of great attraction, in consequence of the preach- 
ing there of the Rev. 0. G. Finney, or, as he 
delights to call himself, " Professor of Theology 
in Oberlin College, United States of America." 
We happen to know something of this Oberlin 
College, which is a remarkably small affair. 
The Professor himself is a tall, thin man, with 
a decidedly American cast of countenance, a 
sallow complexion, and a nasal voice. What 
constituted the attraction of his preaching, we 
really have never been able to find out. To 
us it seemed dry and dull beyond measure. 
Strange doctrines, and theological crotchets will, 
however, allure shallow-minded people, and 
the more absurd the doctrines, the greater will 
be the number of followers. All experience 
has proved this. Joe Smith has his thousands 



REV. JOHN CAMPBELL, D.D. 199 

of Mormonites, — and Edward Irving has given 
his name to a sect. Without putting Professor 
Finney into such a category, or for a moment 
comparing him with the latter great, though 
erratic man, we cannot help thinking that he 
owes his popularity — such as it is — to the 
out-of-the-way opinions which he holds and 
enunciates* 



200 



REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.D. 

Perhaps there is not in all London a place 
better known to the Religious world than 
Finsbury Chapel. It is a sort of Dissenting 
St. Paul's — a species of Nonconformist Cathe- 
dral. Ninety -nine persons, however, out 
of every hundred, will call it " Alexander 
Fletcher's chapel," and we verily believe that 
half the Sunday-scholars in the modern Babylon 
consider that the Reverend Doctor is sole pro- 
prietor of the huge building with which his 
name is identified. 

Finsbury Circus is a genteel locality ; close 
to it is the edifice to which we design travelling 
in the reader's company. Turning out of the 
Circus, we enter a short street, and behold two 
chapels, one on the right hand, and the other 
on the left, attract our attention. The question 



REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.D. 201 

—which is Alexander Fletcher's \ is not long a 
doubtful matter. 

The place of worship on our left is adorned 
with a handsome portico. A dove is carved on 
the pediment, and over this emblem of the 
Holy Spirit towers a stone cross. The steps 
leading to the entrance door are thronged with 
Irish beggars, who importune you with all that 
volubility of mendicancy for which the ;s finest 
pisantry" are famous. Enter the chapel, pay 
your admission fee — for the lovers of Mariolatry 
invariably levy a contribution on heretics — and 
you find yourself in a handsome building, at 
whose western end is a shadowy picture of the 
Ascension. Music is sounding, incense is float- 
ing, and the gorgeous " mummeries" of Roman- 
ism are being performed ; — so, certainly, we 
cannot be in the Protestant temple of Scotch 
" celebrity ." 

Leaving Moorfields' Roman Catholic Chapel, 
we step across the way, and stand before a 
structure which has few pretensions to archi- 
tectural beauty, but many to dirty windows, 
and to premature decay. The outside of Fins- 
bury Chapel is most disagreeably dirty — the 
very inscriptions being half illegible from the 
crust of dirt which covers the letters. One 

M % 



202 REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.0- 

would imagine that the aphorism of * ; Cleanli- 
ness is next to Godliness*' was not believed in 
by the managers of Dr. Alexander Fletcher"? 
conventicle. 

But let us enter, and see if neglect is as ap- 
parent within as without. 

Not so ; — although the place is not a miracle 
of neatness, it nevertheless is somewhat splendid. 
—The shape of the chapel is that of a horse- 
shoe, supposing the bend of the horse-shoe to 
be octagonal instead of circular. Two galleries 
run round the spacious building — one for the 
children of the Sunday schools. The pews in 
the body of the chapel are arranged amphithe- 
atrically — the aisles radiating from the space 
immediately before and below the pulpit. From 
this choral district — the singers congregate 
there — uprises a superb gas candelabra, which 
sheds a chastened light over the pews beneath 
and around. 

The pulpit is very handsome, and far sur- 
passes in grace any other which we have seen. 
It is a miniature copy of one of the most beau- 
tiful specimens of classic architecture. When 
Finsbury Chapel was first opened, some stiff 
Dissenters thought it " much too grand." and 
verv gaudy. — Good souls ! they deemed the 



REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.D. 203 

tubs, which they had been accustomed to see 
in their chapels, very models of pulpit elegance ; 
and, with tasteless bigotry, opposed the classic 
" aggression." 

So much for Finsbury Chapel, externally 
and internally. And now let us see it when 
filled with one of the most interesting congre- 
gations which can well be imagined. 

It is the morning of the great Christian 
Festival, and along the lines of the numerous 
streets which lead to Finsbury Circus are perfect 
regiments of children, all converging to one 
point. From every direction — north, south, 
east, west — they come, marshalled by superin- 
tendents and teachers, some of the latter 
scarcely taller than the children they instruct. 
The hour of eleven approaches — the juvenile 
troops come faster and thicker — the tiny tramp- 
ling of little feet making the hearts of philan- 
thropists glad. How happy they all look ! 
with " shining morning faces" and nicely 
combed hair ; the boys with the cleanest of 
pinafores, and the girls with the tidiest of 
aprons. Some are decked a little gaily, and 
they shine among their companions as con- 
spicuously as tulips among daisies : but all are 
neat, and in their best attire, and all look 



204 REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER. D.I>. 

delighted, for they are going to hear Di% 
Fletcher's Christmas morning annual sermon 
to the Sunday School scholars of the Dissenting 
schools in mighty London. 

Inwards they flow, a living, lengthened rivu- 
let, each separate file passing to its appointed 
place, with General-Tom Thumb-like precision. 
There is a good deal of noise occasioned by the 
shuffling of so many hundred small pairs of 
shoes, and by the subdued expressions of won- 
der and delight from so many small tongues. 
With great trouble, but with the gentlest dis- 
cipline, the teachers at length arrange the 
Lilliputians into seats — seats which they are 
astonished to find themselves in ; and then the 
youngsters look, and nod, and smile at each 
other, and, without a care, settle themselves 
down for the sermon. 

But before that commences let us glance at 
the rows of the double galleries — all filled with 
young immortals — our successors when we 
shall have done with the 

"Weariness, the fever, and the fret" 

of life ; they who may be in their prime when 
the grass is bending over our graves. 

Talk about the beauty of flower-gardens !— 



REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.D. 205 

why, to our minds, there is no flower-garden 
in the world half so beautiful, or so interesting, 
as an assemblage of little children. Beholding 
them, we perceive the fine gold as yet un- 
dimmed by contact with the world. And then 
again, how speculation may indulge in dreams 
as to the future careers of those lambs of the 
flock — whether it will be their lots to wander 
in pleasant pastures, or to be devoured by 
ravening wolves '? Sometimes we are apt to 
rejoice in the deaths of little children, for if 
they pass away in youth they are spared much. 
t; Whom the gods love die young, " said one 
of old, and many a parent will echo the senti- 
ment. Looking at the trials and temptations 
which will certainly beset his progeny, haply 
some father will say, in the words of one of 
the least known, but most powerful writers of 
our time : — 

"The Hen that rears an alien brood, 

(Such mean comparison to make,) 
With terror sees them brave the flood, 

And sail upon the raffl ing lake ; 
Deems all her past protection vain, 
And lonely, walks the shore in pain ; 
E'en such the unworthy Father's pains, 

"Who, to the world he hates and shuns, 
Yields one by one, till none remains, 

His laughing little ones." 



206 REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.D. 

Homely is the comparison of a Parent to a 
Hen, to whose fostering care the eggs of the 
Duck have been entrusted, but how admirably 
is the idea worked out ! 

Let us now quit the consideration of the 
children, for the purpose of sketching the 
Prince of Preachers to children — as Dr. Alex- 
ander Fletcher has been aptly and justly 
termed. 

Every young eye is fixed on him as he enters 
the pulpit. He is a tall, stout man, with an 
abundance of grey hairs flowing about a fore- 
head and temples ample and well developed. 
The shape of the face approaches to the square 
formation, and the face itself is large. Dr. 
Fletcher's eyes are of a grey hue — the nose 
rather of the shortest, and the mouth somewhat 
wide, but finely shaped. A pair of grey 
whiskers form the lateral boundaries of a face, 
whose expression is that of shrewdness, com- 
bined with benevolence. There is much dig- 
nity in his manner ; and his action is very 
impressive. No sooner does he commence the 
service, than it is evident no common man is in 
the pulpit. 

The great influence of the preacher is at 
once shown by the silence of his juvenile con- 



REV, ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.D. 207 

gregation. The instant he rises, every eye is 
fixed upon him, and the utmost attention 
prevails. Little books are opened as Dr. 
Fletcher gives out the hymn, and after it has 
been read, the voices of the assembled children 
burst forth in a gush of thrilling melody, 

The prayer — a highly impressive one — is 
ended, and another hymn having been sung, all 
are on the qui vim for the text. Dr. Fletcher 
is always peculiarly happy in selecting appro- 
priate passages, and on the Christmas Day of 
eighteen hundred and fifty he was more than 
usually felicitous. 

As the coming year was the year of " The 
Exhibition," every one — young and old, were 
deeply anxious on the subject. Shop windows 
were crowded w r ith prints of the Crystal Palace, 
and " Exhibition" articles of every description 
were on sale wherever we wandered. It was 
the absorbing topic of the day, and, therefore, 
happily, w r e say, did Dr. Fletcher choose as his 
text, these three words — 



THIS GREAT SIGHT ! 



From this text the reverend gentleman preached 
a sermon which was so admirably adapted to the 



208 REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.D. 

comprehension of his auditory, that from the 
utterance of the first sentence to the concluding 
word, not for one instant did the attention of 
the children flag, and proofs of that attention 
were afforded by the examination as to the 
various points of the sermon, at its close. 

The service concluded with the singing, by 
the great multitude of children, of those humble, 
but touching verses, whose chorus is 

"Oh! that will be joyful, 
Joyful, joyful, joyful — 

Oh! that will be joyful 
When we meet to part no more ! " 

We are not ashamed to say, that, as we 
listened to this refrain, albeit unused to the 
melting mood, unbidden tears streamed from 
our eyes, and we joined heart and voice with 
the little choristers, 

Dr. Fletcher is, as all the religious world 
knows, a Scotchman ; his native land may 
well be proud of him. His warm sympathy 
with the rising generation has endeared him 
to all who have the welfare of religious wi Young 
England" at heart. As an author, he is best 
known by his expository works, and by his 
<4 Family Commentaries." As a pastor, he is 



REV. ALEXANDER FLETCHER, D.D. 209 

devoted and successful ; but he will live in 
future days, chiefly as the children's preacher ; 
and thousands of these will, doubtless, in after 
years, as they do now, consider him a minis- 
terial u Alexander the Great," 



210 



THE REV. A. 0. BEATTIE. D.D.. 

OF GLASGOW : 

WITH A REMINISCENCE OF DR. CHALMERS, 

Fair City of the Clyde ! it is long since we 
travelled through thy busy streets, or lingered 
on thy bustling wharves ; but very pleasant 
are many of our recollections of Glasgow. Let 
us endeavour to revive a few of them. 

Sitting quietly in our study, a few days since, 
luxuriating over muffins and the Times, we 
observed an announcement that the Rev. Dr. 
Beattie would preach in London on the fol- 
lowing Sunday, We had often heard this able 
man in his own pulpit, and it struck us that as 
we had not as yet sketched a Glasgow "star.** 
the present opportunity should not be lost. 

Before, however, we more particularly refer 



REV. A. O. BEATTIE, D.D. 211 

to Dr. Beattie, let us pen a reminiscence of Dr. 
Chalmers. 

The latest proceedings of great men } whether 
they take place in the senate, at the bar, on the 
platform, or in the pulpit, are always invested 
with powerful and peculiar interest; and when 
one of the giants of intellect becomes prostrated 
by the dart of death, his sayings, doings, and 
appearance become topics of eager curiosity and 
inquiry. The stamp of the past is set upon the 
man and his actions, and the concluding 
chapter of his life's history makes a deeper 
impression, at least for a time, than any of 
those which preceded it, eventful though they 
may have been. 

It was our good fortune to listen to almost 
the last sermon which fell from the eloquent 
lips of Dr. Chalmers, who certainly was the 
most eloquent Scottish preacher of modern 
times. We are aware that many dispute his 
title to this proud pre-eminence, and place Dr. 
Wardlaw in the ascendant ; but this is by no 
means a fair estimate. The latter resembled in 
style the deep tranquil river passing through 
verdant valleys, with scarce a ripple on its 
broad bosom to mar its transparent purity, 
while the former conveyed the idea of an 



212 REV. A. 

impetuous mountain torrent, or a resistless and 
angry river sweeping away every obstacle before 
it, and rejoicing in its strength. Wardlaw 
overcomes objections, and dissipates difficulties, 
by what may be termed the power of gentle- 
ness. Chalmers pounced with tremendous 
energy on a dogma, or a prevailing error, and 
after tearing it to shreds, scattered the frag- 
ments to the four winds of heaven, with holy 
fury. 

Without minutely describing the place 
where the Reverend Doctor preached on the 
occasiou we refer to, we will merely suppose 
that the preliminary portions of the service 
have been nearly gone through, and that a 
hymn is being sung, as a venerable figure 
ascends the pulpit stairs. Let us place him 
before the eyes of the reader — clad in a gown. 
His form appears of the middle height ; but 
this might be owing to a slight stoop. The 
head is magnificent, and lightly covered on the 
summit with silvery hair, the temples being 
more abundantly supplied with locks of the 
same. His face is broad and massive, some- 
what heavy while in repose, and the full grey 
eyes do not blaze up, as we imagined from 
some portraits we had seen of him ; the nose 
is thick, and the mouth full of firmness. 



REV. A. O, BEATT1E, D.D, 213 

He gave out his text in such a hard, cracked, 
broad Fifeshire accent, that we do not think 
half the congregation would have understood 
what he said, had the chapter and verse been 
omitted. The commencement of his discourse 
was slowly delivered; and so common-place 
was it, that we experienced something like a 
feeling of disappointment ; but this gradually 
w r ore off as he proceeded; as the doctor " warmed 
up"' to his subject, which he did gradually, 
after he had fairly plunged into the spirit of it. 

It was then perfectly amazing to observe the 
vigour of thought and abundant action of the 
preacher. In the more energetic portions of 
the discourse, his eyes flashed with excitement, 
his face assumed a wild variety of expression, 
— and we trembled, as he leaned over the 
Bible, for the safety of the pulpit-board. His 
voice, too, became at times cracked and disso- 
nant, but, to those accustomed to the Scottish 
dialect, perfectly distinct, although his velocity 
of expression # was such, that it required 
the closest attention to follow him. — He 
reminded one, at times, of Wilkie's picture 
of John Knox preaching, in which the great 
reformer is represented as almost flying out of 
the pulpit. During the whole of the sermon, 



214 RLV. A. 0. BEATTIE. D.D. 

which lasted rather more than an hour and a 
quarter, the most perfect silence prevailed ; 
indeed the slightest inattention would have 
marred the effect ox the whole discourse ; for the 

thread of thought was so continuous, that it 
formed an unbroken series of ideas, from the 
commencement to the close : a species of con- 
secutiveness too scarce, alas ! in the pulpit 
eloquence of our times. But our object is to 
record — not to criticise. 

It was a striking spectacle to behold that 
venerable man fearlessly uttering bold Christian 
truths in the hearing of the great and wise. 
and the fashionable of England. Rank and 
power did not prevent him from hurling denun- 
ciations on the heads of the ungodly. To each 
and to all he spoke as one who bore a message 
from on high, and with the voice as of one 
having authority, The impression produced 
was great, How much mightier would it have 
been, had the vast multitude of hearers been 
informed that they would hear his living voice 
no more : but neither preacher nor hearers 
were aware that the eloquent tongue would 
speedily be hushed in death : and that the 
powerful advocate of Christianity, ere a week 
or two had passed away, would lay down his 
cross, and receive his crown. 



REV. A. 0. BEATTIE, D.D. 215 

The death of Dr. Chalmers strikingly re- 
minds us of the closing scene of John Foster's 
life ; both died alone. When they quitted 
mortality, no weeping friends beheld the parting 
pangs, if any there were ; both were ready 
when they heard the voice which called them 
home, and both of these great men have, in 
their works, bequeathed a legacy of true wis- 
dom to us who remain . Being dead, they yet 
speak. 



But let us enter Dr. Beattie's chapel. As 
we are politely shown into a pew, a psalm is 
beinof suns — or rather drawled out — so slowlv 
do the words fall from the lips of the worship- 
pers. We have had occasion, more than once, 
to refer to the tasteless singing in many of our 
Dissenting places of worship ; but it is only 
justice to add, that the choristers in many of 
the churches of the Establishment, are quite as 
deficient in harmony ; for we are in England, 
I am sorry to say. far. very far behind America 
in our hvmn singing:. 

With us. each verse of a hymn, no matter 
what may be the sentiment expressed, is 



216 REV. A. O. EEATTIE, D.D. 

drawled out to the same tune, and in the same 
time ; so that a victorious or a joyful exclama- 
tion, and a lamenting line, or a penitential 
petition, are all sung in the same unvarying 
key. To add to the absurdity, we have here 
a vile habit of chopping each verse in half — 
that is, the clerk generally "gives out? as it 
is termed, the first and second lines of a verse, 
which having been sung, he favours the con- 
gregation with two more, and so it goes on to 
the end of the psalm. Frequently there is no 
stop at the end of the second line, but no 
matter, the old clerk stops. Thus, for instance, 
he reads, 

" Who his own flesh doth hate ? 
Yet, strangely, hate not we — " 

This having been sung, he reads, in the 
same dolorous key, 

" A multitude exceeding great 
Of Britain's family ?" 

We were, some years ago, paying a visit in 
Devonshire, and of course, on the Sunday, 
accompanied our friends to their parish church. 
It was one of those sweet rural places which 



REV. A. O. BEATTIE, D.D. 217 

it does one's heart good to go to ; the ancient 
ivy-clad tower rose from amidst its multitude 
of surrounding graves, on which, as we passed 
towards the porch, sat the villagers, chatting 
on various topics. It was what is called Palm, 
or Flowering Sunday, and according to imme- 
morial custom, every grave in that country was 
covered with flowers. We shall not, however, 
attempt to describe minutely the scene which 
ensued on the parson's arrival, nor tell how, as 
he passed down the churchyard walk, with his 
rusty cassock flying in the breeze, his sermon 
book in one hand, and a huge clasped prayer- 
book under his arm, he with his right hand 
stroked the heads of the children near him, or 
courteously lifted his shovel hat, in acknow- 
ledgment of the bows of aged folk ; nor how 
we observed a pale, consumptive-looking girl 
sitting on a tomb (appropriate resting place for 
her) supported by her grandmother, watching, 
with large, hopeful, languid eye, for a smile 
from the good man whom she knew she should 
not hear many times more ; nor how young 
bumpkins, with buxom girls on their arms, 
pulled their front locks with their big fists, and 
blushed stupidly; nor, when we entered the 
sacred building, and the service commenced, 

N 



218 REV. A. 0. BEATTIE. D.D. 

how the church was decorated with evergreens : 
nor how the ambitious choir, consisting of a 
bass viol, two fiddles, (neither of them being 
a Straduarius nor a Cremona), a reedy sound- 
ing clarionet, (it had been bought a great bar- 
gain at a pawn-shop in the neighbouring town.) 
a bassoon, and a fife, executed Ci Awake my 
soul, and with the sun'' in a very extraordinary 
style and manner ; nor how all the little 
charity children in the gallery bawled prodi- 
giously, nor how the cracked voices of the 
alms-house people quavered at the end of every 
verse, long after the other people had done 
singing, to the great indignation of the red- 
nosed beadle, who looked at the poor old 
creatures as if they had not souls worthy of 
singing at all when the squire was present. 
We merely supply the outlines, the reader's 
imagination will readily fill them up. 

One of the psalms for the day was written 
in a peculiarly " peculiar metre," or "perculev" 
as the clerk pronounced it ; and, unfortunately, 
neither the fiddles, nor the bassoon, nor the 
clarionet, nor the fife, would for the life of 
them fit a tune to it ; but we will do them the 
justice to say, that they did the best in their 
power to suit it. by mixing " long, short, and 



REV. A. O. BEATTIE, D.D S 219 

common metre" tunes together very ingeni- 
ously. They tried many ways, and very often 
— sometimes they could proceed pleasantly 
through a few bars ; first the bassoon would 
grumble discordantly — -then the fife w T ould drop 
playing, although the violins fiddled away most 
perseveringly. In a little time the clarionet 
would wander away into a wilderness of sounds, 
lose itself, and die in the distance, with a feeble 
quaver ; and lastly, a crash of discord would 
end the matter; and then came a new trial. 
But all would not do — and so, as a last resource, 
the old clerk got up, and to our utter astonish- 
ment, whistled a tune, which the choir caught 
cleverly ; and then the fiddles rejoiced, the 
clarionet went into ecstacies, the fife flourished 
wonderfully, the bass viol solemnly sounded — 
and the churchwarden's face brightened up, so 
did the beadle's ; the boys bawled lustily ; and 
from that time to this, Palm Sunday and 
Whistling Sunday have ever been with us 
synonymous terms. 

But to our more immediate subject. 

No one can behold Dr. Beattie without 

feeling assured that he is a first-class preacher. 

His pulpit appearance is most impressive. He 

looks the " old disciple." Silvery hair partially 



220 *REV. A. 0. BEATTIE, D.D. 

covers a dome-like cranium, which, on its sum- 
mit, is quite bare. The face is solemnly ex- 
pressive, not so decidedly indicative of great 
mental powers as was that of Chalmers — but 
sufficiently so to convey the idea of no ordinary 
talent in its possessor. 

Dr. Beattie is one of the most impressive 
preachers we have ever listened to. Solemn 
and deeply momentous themes are his forte. 
On the present occasion he preaches from that 
awful question wdiich occurs in the oth verse 
of the 12th chapter of Jeremiah — " How wilt 
thou do in the swellings of Jordan V And 
most ably does he elucidate his subject. Com- 
mencing with a picturesque description of the 
river Jordan, and a sketch of that memorable 
stream's peculiarities, he leads us on to that 
other Jordan which we shall all have to cross 
when our wilderness journey terminates ; and 
powerful — most powerful are his appeals to all 
classes of his hearers. We think we never 
were so " carried away" by a preacher as by 
Dr. Beattie. And there was an earnestness — 
a faithfulness in the discourse, which convinced 
all that he laboured to advance the glory and 
the kingdom of his Divine Master. 

The action of the reverend gentleman is 



REV. A. 0. BEATTIE, D.D. 221 

highly dignified, as well as highly picturesque ; 
and, for so old a man, he is amazingly ener- 
getic. When he had concluded his sermon, 
he appeared no more fatigued than when he 
commenced it, although he had been by no 
means sparing of action — action admirably 
suited to the uttered words. To sum up our 
remarks, we may add, that it would be difficult 
to find, in " the land of the mountain and the 
flood," a pulpit orator of more genuine excel- 
lence, in all respects, than the namesake of the 
author of "The Minstrel." 



229 



REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D., 

OF LIVERPOOL. 

Who has not read the brief, bright history of 
the Rev. Thomas Spencer, of Liverpool I A 
young man, whose eloquence was of the most 
angelic description — at least so we have learned 
from those who long since heard him, and are 
well qualified to judge. Spencer, we will add, 
for the sake of those who may not be acquainted 
with his career, was the very youthful pastor 
of an Independent Church, in Liverpool. — 
Such was the charm, both of his manner and 
of his matter, that admiring crowds thronged 
his chapel, and he became the lion of the town. 
We are told, however, that he bore his honours 
meekly ; popular applause, whose breath has 
dimmed so many bright reputations, did not 



REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 223 

injuriously affect him ; on the contrary, it 
seemed that as his attraction grew more pow- 
erful, his humility and amiability increased. — 
And so he preached on — Sabbath after Sab- 
bath — a bright career before him, and a future, 
which, all who knew him, predicted would be 
one of unusual splendour. 

" Man proposes, but God disposes." One 
morning the merchants on 'Change paused in 
the midst of their traffic — the tradesmen of the 
town of Liverpool ceased suddenly from busi- 
ness — passengers in crowded thoroughfares 
stared incredulously at each other — and the 
eyes of many were dimmed by tears. A 
rumour, that the young — the eloquent — the 
fascinating Thomas Spencer was dead, ran 
like wildfire through the town. On the last 
Sabbath-day he had preached like a young 
Saint Paul — and could it be true that his 
eloquent lips were for ever sealed I It was 
even so : — 

" Xone heard of slow decaying bloom ; 
Xo anxious tears were shed ; 
Xo fearful tidings, one by one, 
Came from his dying bed j" 

but suddenly the spoiler came. Whilst bathing 



22-i REV. THOMAS RAFFLES. L.C.D. 

in the Mersey, Thomas Spencer was seized with 
cramp, and sunk. Immediate exertions were 
made to recover the body, and when it was 
found, all the expedients which science could 
suggest were used in the hope of resuscitation. 
Vain efforts ! The earthly career was for ever 
ended, and whilst the physicians were endea- 
vouring to recal the ;; Vital spark of Heavenly 
Flame," the soul of the young minister was 
beyond the stars. Finely has Dr. Croly, in his 
" Angel of the World," referred to some such 
a scene : — 

'• But the freed spirit's gone. Upon the floods. 

The rolling of whose waves is Life — 'tis gone ; 
And it has mingled with the diadem' d crowds 

"Who wing not in the light of star or snn ; — 

It lives at last — its being has begun. 
From that last moment when the mortal eye 

Gazed on the chamber hushed — the taper dum 
It gazed on things unutterable : — high 

Above all height — all thought : — on immortality ;' 

" But," perchance some of our readers will 
say. " what has this story of Spencer to do with 
the gentleman whose name heads this portion 
of the volume ?" "Much," we answer. The 
Reverend Thomas Raffles was the biographer 
of Spencer— and he succeeded Spencer in the 



REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 225 

pulpit. That pulpit, itself, has been destroyed, 
as was the old George Street Chapel, by fire — 
but a new and splendid edifice was, with 
astonishing rapidity, erected on its site ; and 
there preaches, to this day, the Rev. Thomas 
Raffles ; his popularity, after a long series of 
sermons, and many years of pulpit labour, being 
undiminished. 

Liverpool is fortunate in possessing two such 
popular and excellent preachers as Di\ M c NeUe 
and Dr. Raffles. Scarcely any one who at all 
cares about pulpit eloquence visits Liverpool 
without hearing one or the other, or both. 
Gentle reader, we are in the mercantile metro- 
polis of the North of England, on a Sabbath- 
day. On the morrow we shall plant our feet 
on the deck of the Ci California," which good 
ship, we hope, will carry us " to fresh fields and 
pastures new/' in the land of Washington. On 
a former visit to Liverpool, we heard Dr. Hugh 
M ; Neile, and we would now, in the words of 
Moore, — 

'*Wing our flight from star to star ;" 

in other, and less poetical phrase, let us, on this 
our last (perhaps) Sunday in our own England, 



226 REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 

travel from the church of the canon of Chester, 
to the chapel of the Dissenter. With M'Neile 
fresh in memory, we will listen to Raffles. 

A splendid chapel is that which we now 
enter. Wherever we look there are unmis- 
takeable indications of wealth and taste. The 
seats themselves look so comfortable, that we 
are almost invited — -without sexton aid — to 
enter them. But we are spared the possible 
inconvenience of " aggression" on the pew ter- 
ritory, by the politeness of an old lady, who, 
seeing that we are strange to the place, cour- 
teously accommodates us with a seat. Fancy 
us, then, exactly opposite the pulpit— the organ 
sounding softly and solemnly, and half Liver- 
pool coming into the chapel* 

" How can you go to places of worship for 
the mere sake of 'taking off the preachers?" 
said a lady to us, a few days since. We con- 
fess that we slightly blushed at t\\Q implied 
rebuke, although we felt it to be quite unde- 
served. But we could not retaliate, for in that 
little parlour, of that little dwelling, in that 
certain little square of "merrie Islington," we 
were " cribbed, cabined, confined," and seven or 
eight ladies — none of them old, and all of 
them more than usually acute and talented. 



REV. THOMAS RAFFLES. L.C.D. Zli 

were ready to take advantage of any tongue- 
slip. Then there was a " country cousin," fat 
and fresh, from Devonshire, with a waistcoat 
which suggested the idea of variegated rail- 
roads, who, we feared, might have more stuff 
in him than appeared on the surface of his 
healthy-looking face. So we endeavoured to 
shirk the question. 

" How can you call some of them cushion- 
thumpers ?" asked the same lady. She was 
sitting in a comfortable easy-chair by the side 
of the fire, and winking most wickedly at a 
satirical, but warm-hearted friend of hers on 
the other side, who, was making up a parcel 
of clothing for some poor woman, in the most 
approved Dorcas style. 

It would be, w r e found, useless to fight 
against such fair foes, so we incontinently 
changed the current of conversation, and fell 
to abusing the Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
But that refuge was no sanctuary, for a young 
lady, who, in a fit of desperate enthusiasm, 
was copying some trashy lines from La Belle 
Assemblee, pointed her pen at us so menacingly, 
that we were fain to beat a retreat towards the 
dining-room, and to make our peace with the 
little Russel-ite, as we led her thither. 



228 REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 

Seriously, we hold ourselves guiltless of -mor- 
tal sin, in now and then going to church or 
chapel, and penning down peculiarities. And 
we should like to inquire of any lady who fre- 
quents a place of worship, whether, now and 
then, she has not caught herself criticising 
crinoline instead of the chapter from which the 
text was taken ; or paying more attention to 
patchouli than to piety; or to the fragrance of 
lavender water, rather than to the " odour of 
sanctity V 



u All hail the power of Jesus' name ! 
Let angels prostrate fall ; 
Bring forth the royal diadem, 
And crown him Lord of all," 

thunders from the organ, as with slow, majestic 
step, Dr. Raffles ascends the pulpit stairs. We 
say majestic, for he mounts, as we may sup- 
pose, a crowned king mounts the dais on which 
his throne is situated. Yet, there is not a 
particle of pride in Dr. Raffles, for we happen 
to have met him in places where proud habits 
could not escape undetected ; we unhesitatingly 
declare that the worthy doctor is one of the 



KEY. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 229 

most affable, intellectual, and delightful of 
companions : good humour sparkles in his clear 
blue eye, and plays about his mouth ; and 
cheerfulness is imprinted on every line of his 
countenance. 

But, in the pulpit, solemnity banishes any- 
thing and everything but a consciousness of 
the Great Mission of the Preacher. We feel 
assured that when Dr. Raffles enters the sacred 
desk, he leaves the world behind him, and 
stands only as the Minister of Mercy between 
a sinless God and sinful man. Some of the 
most impressive orators in the pulpit are the 
merriest of men in the parlour. And why not ? 
One of the most talented and pious ministers 
of our acquaintance, scorning hypocrisy, used 
to read " Pickwick" at breakfast time on Sun- 
day — (Pickwick then was in course of publi- 
cation) — and we honestly declare that we never 
heard a more solemn preacher in all our life. 

Dr. Raffles opens the hymn book, and com- 
mences the service. We are at once struck 
with the beauty of his reading. Every word 
has its due emphasis — every line its proper 
intonation, and the effect produced is profound, 
But then, Dr. Raffles is a poet himself, and 
consequently carefully avoids the too common 



230 REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 

error of marring fine stanzas by slovenly read- 
ing. " Once upon a time," we, ourselves, per- 
petrated a hymn to be sung on a public occasion ; 
but to our inexpressible indignation and vexa- 
tion, the person who read it completely spoiled 
it by his reading. Who does not remember 
Biddy Fudge's agony at having had her verses 
misprinted—" freshly-blown ?K)ses" having been 
substituted for " roses." The vexation of Tom 
Moore's heroine could scarcely have exceeded 
mine. 

Let us give a pen-picture of Dr. Raffies's 
outward man before we proceed farther. 

If Dr. Raffles has studied much, and we 
believe he must have done so, it proves that a 
student's face does not always indicate what 
Shakspear calls " the pale cast of thought," for 
the physiognomy of our reverend friend exhibits 
all the indications of rude and vigorous health. 
The cheeks are as florid as those of a young 
farmer, fresh from the fields, Blue, large, and 
clear are the eyes, not, perhaps, so bright as 
of yore ; and those unmistakeable signs of 
approaching age — crow's feet, are discernible 
at their angles. There is a comfortable, and 
somewhat of a jovial expression on the coun- 
tenance of Dr. Raffles ; the world appears to 



REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 231 

have dealt gently with him, and we believe 
such has been the case. With respect to 
height, he is of the middle stature, and rather 
stout — not fat, however ; but he possesses a 
respectability of rotundity, not uncommon to 
gentlemen who have remarkably comfortable 
easy chairs in remarkably snug studies, and 
large and certain incomes. 

Dr. Raffles reads the Scriptures no less 
admirably than the hymns. On the present 
occasion he selects that splendid portion of 
Holy Writ in which is related the account 
of the examination of St. Paul before King 
Agrippa* We had read that chapter hundreds 
of times, but never were fully impressed with 
its marvellous beauty before we heard the 
speech of Paul delivered by Dr. Eaffles. There 
was a suiting, so far as the pulpit would admit 
of it, of the action to the word ; and that 
action was the most natural and unaffected 
which may be imagined. For instance, when 
the reverend gentleman read that part of the 
Apostle's defence or statement, in which he 
wishes that he, before whom he was speaking, 
was like him in every respect, " save these 
bonds," Dr.- Raffles placed his right hand on 
his left wrist — thus without the slightest 



232 RFV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.'D. 

quackery, indicating the manacles. We are 
aware that many excellent people denounce 
such " aids," believing them to be, to use their 
own phrase, " theatrical/' From such we 
differ altogether. Manner, as well as matter, 
has its influence ; and if pulpit-action does not 
degenerate into grimace and grotesqueness, 
certain are we that it will operate as a gentle 
and attractive " persuasive to Piety," especially 
as regards the young. 

We have heard Dr. Raffles described as a 
" grand preacher :" that he is a deeply impres- 
sive pulpit orator we admit, but the term 
"grand" does not exactly chime in with our 
notions. He owes his popularity more to his 
manner of decorating new principles, than to 
the enunciation of any great subjects connected 
with them. His manner, more than his matter, 
attracts, though the matter is excellent. It is 
wonderful how elocution, like charity, will veil 
defects of thinking. A very great preacher 
and thinker of modern times once said in our 
hearing — " Raffles, sir — Raffles, sir — his ser- 
mons are like gold leaf; they give to a bar of 
lead the appearance of a solid ingot of the pre- 
cious metal, whereas but a thin layer alone 
covers the less valuable material/' We do 



11EV, THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 233 

not altogether agree with the satirical observa- 
tion, because we feel assured that if the sermons 
of Dr. Raffles are not all gold, they contain a 
more than average quantity of the auriferous 
article. 

Dr. Raffles is great when he preaches, 
especially of the solemn realities of Death 
and Eternity. No one — not even the hardest- 
hearted hearer — can sit unmoved, we imagine, 
whilst he, without any vulgar declamation, 
discourses on these momentous themes. AVell 
do we remember the effect he produced, 
when, some years since, preaching at the 
Tabernacle, in the city of Bristol. He had 
been dwelling on the uncertainty of life, and 
the necessity of a preparation for the eternal 
state. Forcibly did he insist on the uncer- 
tainty of human existence, and the perils which 
environed every mortal's path. At length he 
suddenly ceased — a pause of a few moments 
ensued — and then, with an effect never to be 
forgotten by us, he quoted the following verse : 

" Infinite joy, or endless woe, 
Attends on every breath, 
And yet — how unconcerned we go 
Upon the brink of death." 

The fine point, if we may so speak, which Dr. 



234 REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.P. 

Raffles made, was in the utterance of the word 
" yet," which we have emphasised. The won- 
der of human indifference and mortal careless- 
ness, as evinced in heedlessness of the uncertain 
next moment; was never before so fully brought 
to our mind. A sermon from the most elo- 
quent divine could not more deeply have 
impressed us. 

The sermons of Dr. Raffles are usually short, 
seldom exceeding forty minutes ; and, in limit- 
ing himself to such a space of time, we think 
lie acts wisely. Seldom is any salutary effect 
produced by wearisome sermons — sermons, 
whose comments are forgotten long before the 
" tenthly" is arrived at. Some years ago we 
resided in a country town, where preached a 
remarkably good, but exceedingly prosy divine. 
An hour and a half, or two hours, was the 
average duration of his discourses. It was in 
vain the deacons of the church gave him broad 
hints ; in vain was it that the hearers—many 
of them,- — at least, walked out of the church 
at his " seventhly/' 

At length some arch-sinners determined, if 
they could not shorten the sermon, to prevent 
its being preached at all. So a plot was laid ; 
and one Sunday morning, immediately after 



REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 235 

the service, the clerk, who was one of the 
conspirators, gave out the first verse of the one 
hundred and nineteenth psalm. Three or four 
verses were sung, and the minister rose to 
commence his discourse ; but the wicked clerk 
gave out another verse — and another — and 
another ; and so on, until the whole of the 
verses of that longest of the psalms had been 
sung. All this time the minister had been in 
agony ; the psalm seemed as if it never would 
end ; but at length it did, and he rose to 
repeat his text, at about the time the service 
usually terminated. But, to his dismay, the 
clerk began the psalm again, and the choir 
lustily sang on until dinner time — when, with 
a rush, singers, congregation, and clerk, quitted 
the chapel, leaving the preacher " alone in his 
glory." He, however, not being inclined to 
practice the precepts of Zimmerman, and 
remembering, perhaps, that the mutton at 
home might be boiled to rags, followed his 
fugitive congregation, and, we are happy to 
say, on the next Sunday, preached but for a 
reasonable time. 

Dr. Baffles is, as he deserves to be, a great 
favourite in Liverpool, both amongst the mem- 
bers of the Established Church, and Dissenters. 



236 REV. THOMAS RAFFLES. L.C.D. 

His congregation is wealthy, and we understand 
that he himself is not stinted in this worlds 
good things. He is, however, one who deserves 
wealth, for he is most charitable. As a scien- 
tific man he stands high ; and the attainments 
of the Philosopher add to the eminence of the 
Christian. They are shallow thinkers who 
suppose that Eeligion and Physical Science are 
not each the lovelier for a connection with the 
other. 

By the way, a splendid instance of the union 
of lofty science with humble piety, is afforded 
in the case of the most profound Natural 
Philosopher of our time. Who has not heard 
of Dr. Michael Faraday, the Professor of 
Chemistry in the Royal Institution of Great 
Britain ? Half the wealth, intelligence, beauty. 
and fashion of the metropolis, rush to Alber- 
marle Street, whenever he lectures — and yet he 
may be seen, Sunday after Sunday, in one of 
the most obscure places of worship in London. 

Some few years since, when quitting our 
friend Dr. Henry, at Princeton. New Jersey, 
to whom we had been on a visit, we were 
entrusted by him with a packet for Dr. 
Faraday, and charged to deliver it into his 
own hands. On arriving in England, we 



REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, L.C.D. 237 

inquired for Faraday at the Royal Institution, 
but ascertained that he was at Brighton. 
However, a day or two afterwards, we had an 
intimation given us of the great chemist's 
whereabouts, and, on the following Sunday, we 
set out in search of him. 

The pedestrian who passes the General Post 
Office, St. Martin-le-Grand, and proceeds up 
Aldersgate Street, will, if he turns to the 
right, opposite Long Lane, finds himself in the 
Barbican — Barbican Chapel is on the right 
hand as he goes towards Finsbury Square, 
Now, we are not going to Barbican Chapel, 
but on one side of this building is a narrow 
passage, and down this we travelled, and at 
length came to an out-of-the-way building, 
which we ascertained to be the place for which 
we were bound. It was a Sandemanian Chapel. 

We entered — about thirty people were pre- 
sent, and, in a pew in the body of the chapel, 
stood praying, him whom we sought, Dr. 
Faraday. The great philosopher, whose disco- 
veries have startled the scientific world, was 
expounding a chapter of the New Testament. 
Glorious sight ! 

We sat quietly until the service had con- 
cluded, and then asked the sexton to tell Dr. 



238 KEW THOMAS RAFFLES. L.C.D. 

Faraday that a gentleman with a parcel from 
Dr. Henry wished to see him. With all the 

agility of youth, he jumped from one pew to 
another, until he reached the place where we 
were awaiting him. 

" Queer place to find me in, is it not?'' he 
said, with a smile. 

We certainly did think it a "queer place." 
but did not say as much, contenting ourselves 
with fulfilling t; our mission," and departing. 

Sunday after Sunday — let the weather be 
what it will, may Dr. Faraday be seen walking 
along the Barbican (for he will not ride on the 
Sabbath.) to that little Sandemanian Chapel, 
and the curious in such matters may, if they 
choose, witness a Royal Institution Professor in 
the midst of an obscure and scarcely known 
congregation. 

To return to Dr. Raffles — He is, we under- 
stand, a great collector of autographs, just as 
Henry Phillips, the singer, is of walking- 
sticks, and Lablache of snuff-boxes. With 
him. however, as a curiosity-hunter, we have 
nothing to do, and so will conclude this article 
with the simple remark, that we believe there 
is not a minister in all England more worthy 
than himself to be the successor of Thomas 
Spencer, 



2S9 



THE REV. FRANCIS CLOSE, M.A, 

OF CHELTENHAM. 

When, as we have elsewhere in this volume 
remarked, such places as Clifton and Chelten- 
ham put forth their claims to consequence, as 
places to which invalids may repair in the hope 
of restoring health, the city of Bath lost half 
its attraction ; and in proportion as the reputa- 
tion of the capital of King Bladud declined, 
the mercury of fashion in the aristocratic ther- 
mometer rose, and pointed to one or the other 
of the sister refuges of the sick and the single, 
the invalid and the idler. Cheltenham, from 
a peculiar combination of causes, for a long 
time was the successful rival of Clifton ; but 
we believe that, amongst the genuine lovers 
of beautiful scenery, and of the hottest of waters 
which are not absolutely nauseous, Clifton, at 
the present moment, is in the ascendant. 



240 REV. FRANCIS CLOSE, M.A. 

In fact, there can be no two opinions 
respecting the eligibilities of the two places. 
Cheltenham is nothing more than an elegant 
country town : it is made up of plate glass and 
brass window-sashes — of one street, along 
whose pavement languid young ladies stroll, 
and effeminate dandies dawdle — of some long 
avenues, bordered by the most regular rows of 
trees, and of some places called " spas,' 1 where 
the water-cure is most profitably practised. 
The tradesmen of the place regard every visitor 
as hawks regard pigeons — things to be pounced 
upon ; and the lodging-house keepers consider 
the inmates of their dwellings as lawful prey. 
But, then, if people choose to go to such 
" fashionable > resorts, they must expect to pull 
their purse-strings ; for that same Fashion is a 
lady, who, though she sells her commodities at 
an " awful sacrifice," takes care that the sacrU 
flee shall be made by her customers. 

Take a view of Clifton. Terraces and cres- 
cents rise gracefully above each other, as you 
gaze across the stupendous chasm, through whose 
"rift of rock *' flows the Avon. Mark the 
hanging woods of Leigh on that river's opposite 
bank, and behold the entrance of " Nightingale 
Valley, " a place where Dauby, and Ripping% 



REV. FRAXC1S CLOSE, M.A. 241 

ville, and Midler, and Bird, loved to wander, 
and there drink in natural inspiration. Then, 
again, travel towards the Channel, and see 
%i Cook's Folly," a tower with which is con- 
nected one of Bristol's many touching legends. 
Or, if you desire to see the Channel itself, 
ascend one of the neighbouring eminences 
around, or the tower, and at no great distance 
you will behold — 

" the radiant waters dance, 
And barks glide over their blue expanse." 

And far away you will see the hills of Wales, 
blue, and dotted over with white- walled farms. 
— The glorious Abbey of Tintern is w T ithin but 
a few miles of the place on which you stand. 
Nearer still is lovely Portshead, and pleasant 
Clevedon. — In short, there is, we think, no 
place in the West of England surrounded by 
such scenery as Clifton, and Clifton itself is a 
gem worthy of the little Paradise in which it 
is placed. 

But here we may not linger; and casting many 
a " longing, lingering look behind," we enter 
the railway-carriage, and, drawn by the iron 
horse, dash forward towards Gloucester. A 
few moments steal we, in order to glance at 



242 REV. FRANCIS CLOSE, M.A. 

its cathedral, and the residence of the miser- 
banker, Wood ; and again we are off, almost 
before we have had time to laugh at half the 
anecdotes told to us of the "grim Earl of 
Berkeley/' The train progresses less rapidly, 
and we are in Cheltenham. A stroll through 
the streets — a peep into the libraries — and a 
sip of the saline, and we retire to our virtuous 
pillow, at the " Plough;' 

" Any first-rate preachers here, Thomas !" 
we asked of the parsonic-looking waiter, as he 
removed the remains of a cold chicken next 
morning. 

" Preacher, sir ? — yes sir," was Thomas's 
reply, and he looked about the room per- 
plexedly — he fancied we had asked for some- 
thing like a " footman," a " dumb waiter," or 
a " boot-jack." A Sandwich Islander, who, 
some profane wit tells us, always " keeps a 
cold boiled missionary" on the side-board, 
might have understood the question better. 

"A minister — a parson," we suggested, per- 
ceiving that Thomas was at fault. 

" Oh ! yes, sir — certainly, sir," said the 
functionary of the " Plough." " One of 'em died 
t'other day, sir— good many of the nobs went 
to^his place — he was some sort of a foreigner 
parson." 



REV. FRANCIS CLOSE, M.A, 243 

Of course, we imagined that the "foreigner 
parson " must have been a monk, or a converted 
German Jew, or something of that sort — so we 
asked for further information. 

" He was a Welchman,'' said Thomas ; and 
then we remembered that for many years the 
Rev. Jenkin Thomas had been a highly popular 
Dissenting minister in Cheltenham. We re- 
membered, too, his tall figure — his intelligent 
face — his crisp, curly, dark hair, and his 
piercing eyes. And so Jenkin Thomas was 
gone ! Yes — we took up a Cheltenham paper, 
and in it was his obituary. 

" But, sir," said the waiter after a pause, " the 
greatest preacher in Cheltenham, or anywhere 
else, if all that I hear be true, is our vicar." 

" And who may he be T we inquired. 

" The Rev. Mr. Close/' was the reply. 

" Close — Francis Close V we again asked. 

" The very same gentleman," observed the 
waiter, as he quitted the coffee-room. 

So having frequently heard of Mr. Close, we 
determined to go and hear him : accordingly, 
m soon as the chimes sounded forth from the 
parish church of Cheltenham, we stepped from 
the portals of the " Plough," and sedately 
joined the string of fashionables who were on 
their way to attend divine service. 



2H REV. FRANCIS CLOSE. M.A, 

The congregation worshipping in Mr. Close's 
church is, as may be expected, extremely select. 
Peers and peeresses, counts and countesses, 
baronets and their ladies, dowagers of every 
description, and widows of lower degree innu- 
merable ; faded old beaux, and fragrant young 
dandies ; manoeuvring mammas and marriage- 
able daughters, together with crowds of the 
first-class tradesmen of Cheltenham, surrounded 
by their wives and families, all thronged the 
pews, presenting a very fair specimen of a 
fashionable audience in a fashionable English 
town. 

Everything in and about the church wore a 
distingue appearance. The beadle was an aris- 
tocrat of his class — a very model beadle. You 
could not look at him without a feeling of awe, 
a certainty that he was as superior to the com- 
mon beadles of common country churches, as 
Knights of the Garter are to undecorated com- 
moners. The sextons were patterns of good 
breeding — there was a style about them ; so of 
course they could not be expected to take no- 
tice of one so humble as the writer of this 
sketch, who stood modestly and humbly in the 
aisle, hoping to attract their notice, and to pro- 
cure a seat. The clerk was the very prince of 



REV. FRANCIS CLOSE. M.A, 245 

Amenists, and wore his robe with as much 
dignity as he could possibly muster. And as 
for the curate — why he looked like an incipient 
dean at the very least, to say nothing of the 
mitre which he may have seen in the Future's 
shadowy distance. 

The magnificent liturgy of the Church of 
England has been read, and the superb but 
"miserable sinners," in silk and satin, broad- 
cloth and brocade, fine linen and lace, have 
sunk down on the softest of cushions, to listen 
to the sermons of the vicar, who now makes 
his appearance in the pulpit, 

The Rev. Francis Close by no means re- 
sembles the late Ambrose Seurat, who, some 
years ago, was exhibited as the " Living Ske- 
leton ;" nor does he remind one of that remark- 
able gentleman, Mr. Bernard Cavanagh, who, 
it will be remembered, some time ago pretended, 
chameleon-like, to live on air : on the contrary, 
the vicar of Cheltenham is a gentleman of 
plump proportions, rather rosy-faced, and of an 
undeniable amplitude of waist. Should he 
ever be preferred to some vacant See, in the 
respect of looking, as Mark Tapley has it, 
"joUyi" he most certainly will not disgrace the 
bench of bishops. Situated as we were, we 



246 key. 



M.A. 



could not spy out his physiognomical peculiari- 
ties ; but if the reader will picture to himself a 
gentleman, easy in manners — rather burly in 
figure — dignified in his demeanour, and rather 
serious looking, he will be enabled to form 
some idea of the personal appearance of the 
Reverend Francis Close. 

Mr, Close commences his discourse with the 
air of a man who feels assured, that whatever 
he may advance will be received without any 
scruples or doubts on the part of his audience. 
He evidently feels that he has, in parliamentary 
phrase, the " ear of the House." There are 
many preachers who, hesitatingly and almost 
fearfully, lay down their propositions — they 
seem almost excusingly to enunciate their opi- 
nions as though they dreaded to give offence 
to their congregations ; reminding us of what 
Robert Hall said of a young and shy preacher, 
who had a wretched habit of craving forgive- 
ness for differing from other people. " Why, 

sir," said Hall, " Mr. B is so full of 

apologies that I wonder he does not ask pardon 
for being in the world." Mr. Close is not such 
a one. He knows full well that whatever he 
says will certainly be applauded to the echo in 
clra wing-rooms, after the service ; and so, with 



REV, FRANCIS CLOSE, M.A. 247 

comparative indifference, says just what he 
thinks, without being for an instant anxious as 
to how his opinions may be received. 

There is one great peculiarity in Mr. Close's 
manner, at Cheltenham we mean, for we pre- 
sume that he would not indulge in such fami- 
liarity elsewhere. He has a habit of talking 
to his hearers from the sacred desk as he might 
talk to a circle of ladies engaged in charitable 
Dorcas-work. Leaning over the pulpit — he 
sometimes complacently folds his arms — drops 
his voice, and almost talks wheedlingly — you 
would think he was coaxing people into piety ; 
— occasionally he becomes quite secular, and 
acts as an advertisement : that is, if he has 
been extracting from any particular work, he 
sotto voce informs his hearers where they may 
procure the best edition. Then he will take 
up the current of his discourse, and preach 
really a very respectable sermon, but not such 
a one as would stand a comparison with that of 
a first-rate minister, But, as Mrs. Malaprop 
says — " comparisons are odorous." 

Whether, however, the Rev. Francis Close's 
pulpit efforts are master-pieces of their class or 
not, one thing is quite certain, his regular 
hearers are perfectly satisfied with them, and, 



248 REV. FRANCIS CLOSE, M.A. 

after all, that is the main point, if we leave 
edification out of the question. We do not 
mean to insinuate that they are not edified — 
they may be. and possibly are ; what we 
would imply is — that some flocks are too prone 
to prefer having their ears tickled, to having 
their souls fed with the bread of life, and so 
•rest contented with what alone pleases the 
sense. But we are sermonizing ourselves, and 
it may be without gratifying either head or 
heart — thus putting ourselves in a worse position 
than any to whom we have alluded. 

In our sketch of Dr. M'Xeile we alluded to 
the extensive influence which he possesses over 
the people of Liverpool, Such influence also 
does the Rev. Francis Close exert over the good 
folks of Cheltenham. He is emphatically the 
great man of the place — u the Monarch of all 
he surveys" in that resort of Fashion. Never 
in the high and palmy days of Beau Nash of 
Bath, did that illustrious Ruler of Foppism, 
and Autocrat of Absurdity, rule with more 
absolute supremacy than dose the reverend 
gentleman of whom we are now writing. The 
authorities of the town sink into insignificance 
when their influence is placed beside that of our 
potent vicar. In all Cheltenham there is not 



REV. FRANCIS CLOSE, M.A. 249 

an inhabitant who does not confess him as 
absolute ruler. Tradesmen court his patronage, 
and our manager of the theatre trembles at his 
frown — and the latter gentleman's dismay is 
not groundless, for from his pulpit Mr. Close 
has thundered forth anathemas against the 
"poor players," whose grievous sin consisted^ 
in his eyes, in their enacting Hamlet, Macbeth^ 
or Lear. Ah ! Mr. Close, we may be very 
presumptuous in lecturing you-, but we do think 
that you exhibit a very unchristian spirit in 

u Damning sins yon have no mind to ;" 

thus plucking the " staff of life" — bread, from 
the hands of the sons of Thespis, whilst you, 
in your cosy vicarage, feed on the fat of the 
land, and never banquet, as performers too often 
do, on imaginary legs of mutton — fowls of 
leather, stuffed with sawdust, or on sausages 
which not the hungriest of Ostriches could 
digest. 

The situation of a pet parson, or a popular 
parson — for they are both much the same — 
must be, we imagine, extremely pleasant : and 
doubtless Mr. Close finds it so. We have 
heard from what we consider to be reliable 



250 REV. FRANCIS CLOSE. M.A, 

sources, that the reverend gentleman is almost 
persecuted with presents — a very delightful sort 
of persecution, too. and of a sort quite different 
to that which many of the churchmen of 
former days endured. Ladies, we understand, 
vie with each other in showing their esteem 
for their pastor, and so his dwelling is fur- 
nished, from basement to attic, with contribu- 
tions from fair fingers — such as carpet-, 
anti- macassars, window-curtains, and many a 
nick-nack of crotchet- work. Wherever he 
he goes, he is a welcome guest, and whenever 
he preaches crowds follow him. This we have 
no right to find fault with : it looks well and 
speaks well. too. for both pastor and people. 
But we cannot help contrasting such a position 
as Mr. Close's with that of many a poor hard- 
working parson in England, who finds it a 
hard matter to " cut his mutton" one day in 
the week, 

Mr. Close is. though eminently a popular 
preacher, not a man of first-class attainments ; 
but he is exactly suited to the position he occu- 
pies. — He is neither a stern alarmist, an Elijah 
the Tishbite calling down fire from Heaven. 
nor a man of exquisite sensibility — a Jeremiah.. 
who, when he rebukes offenders, does it with 



REV. FRANCIS CLOSE, M.A. 251 

sighs, and sheds over them tears of tenderness, 
but rather a Cheltenham Gamaliel, held in 
reputation by his congregation, who fancy them- 
selves fortunate in finding a place at his feet ; 
in fact, he may be described as a " fashionable" 
preacher, and in his sphere a useful and honour- 
able man. 






THE REV. DR. CANDLISH, 

OF EDINBURGH! 

WITH GLANCES AT TEE VKA?. OF E::;: 
THE REV. J. W. CURING-BAAL M.A. : AXE THE 
REV, JAYIES HAMILTON, D.D. 



.- . t 



Tvra.? neit-hir — P;.t br^n :•:• peep. 
Ani through "he shutter- eh:uk= :: i-reet. 

When the " neat-handed Phyllis" of oiir tiny 
establishment tapped at our chamber door. 
deposited the hot water without, and informed 
us that it was seven o'clock, like " a giant 
refreshed," we sprang from our matrrass (for 
we scorn luxurious feathers), and incontinently 
strove, in the words of good old Bishop Ken. to 
v> shake off dull sloth." A copious ablution 
soon effected this : and then, having taken our 
solitary cup of cocoa, we grasped our bit of 
black-thorn, and. on as lonely a Sabbath morn- 
ing as ever dawned, we quitted our residence. 



HEY. DR. CAXDLISH. 25S 

for the purpose of a country walk, and at the 

end of it a country sermon. 

Whither shall we go ? was our first question, 
as we stood on the pavement of the silent Lon- 
don street, for we had not formed any positive 
plan of proceeding. Musingly we strolled 
along Tottenham Court Road, and happening 
to glance into the window of a news-shop, just 
opened, we were attracted by a portrait of 
Byron We instantly remembered that we had 
never been to Harrow, where the great poet 
was educated ; and our mind was at once made 
up. So with vigorous and rapid strides we set 
forward, our face turned towards Harrow-on- 
the-Hill. 

Possibly some over-particular, but well- 
meaning reader, will lay down this volume and 
say. that we broke the Sabbath, in thus 
wandering into the country on a Sunday. We 
firmly believe that we did no such thing. We 
were in no worse company than our own, and 
if, as Cowper says, — 

c: God made the Country, and 2>Ian made the Town/' 

what possible reason can exist, why a fagged, 
and body-and-soul jaded writer, should not, on 
p 



254 REV, DR. CAVDLISH. 

God's own day. seek those influences which He 
created to purify, and heal, and refresh, the 
soul \ 

Regardless, however, of the opinion of any 
body on this point — onwards we trudge — 
Paddington is soon passed, and so is Kilbura 
Gate, in the Edgeware Road. Turning aside, 
we pass through Willesden. glancing, for a 
moment, at the far-famed ,; cage" of Jack 
Sheppard. This pretty village left far behind 
us, we find the road somewhat of the steepest, 
and now we mount the incline: twenty minutes 
more brings a village in sight : and. as the 
chimes are pealing, we enter the churchyard of 
Harrow-on-the-Hill. having put ten .eood miles 
between us and London. 

"We cannot conceive a more beautifully situa- 
ted churchyard than that in which we now are. 
The church stands on an eminence, and is a 
land-mark for many miles. Xear it are count- 
less graves, kept in excellent order : and stately 
trees fling their broad shadows on the graves of 
the dreamless sleepers below, As Keats says 
of an old Italian cemetry, " It would make one 
feel almost in love with death to be buried in 
so sweet a place." The scenery round this 
elevated place of graves resembles one vast 



REV. DR. CANDLISH. 255 

panorama ; for seven counties are at once 
visible from it. In all England, we imagine, 
such another extensive view of rich and fertile 
lands could not be obtained. 

As is our custom, we rambled among the 
graves — but one tombstone absorbed, at length, 
all our interest. It was a large slab of slate, 
on which was an inscription setting forth that 
beneath it reposed the remains of one John 
Peachey, Esq., who died in 1780. It was 
chipped at the edges, and one corner was 
entirely broken off; for hundreds of pilgrims, 
from many lands, had stolen fragments, in order 
to carry them away as memorials of departed 
genius. The good Mr. Peachey, we dare 
venture to say, little thought that his tomb- 
stone would one day become a sort of shrine, 
and that the slab of slate on which his name 
was to be recorded would be world-famed as 
" ByronVstone." 

It was on this tombstone that the author of 
•' Ohilde Harold," when at Harrow school, 
loved to recline, watching the splendid land- 
scape below ; hence its name. It is the great 
Lion of Harrow church-yard, and we confess 
to having sat on it with no common feelings. 
How potent must G-enius be, when it can thus 



356 REV. DR. CAXBLIiH. 

invest, with such interest, a simple stone ! The 

place where Byron used to lie. apart from his 
school-fellows, musing it may be. on those 
themes which were afterwards developed and 
elaborated, is now the chosen resort of those 
whose spirits have thrilled with ecstaey. whilst 
contemplating the magnificent creations oi his 
master mind. 

We enter the church, and take our seat in 
the aisle. After the service has been read, a 
gentleman enters the pulpit. His grey hairs. 
and slightly-bowed frame, tell that more than 
the allotted term of three-score and ten years 
have passed over his head- A dignified serenity 
characterises his countenance. The sermon is 
read ; it is temperate, judicious, and laith: 
and evidently the composition of a ripe scholar 
: — but it lacks vigour. The worst of these 
learned men's discourses is — a formality which 
is too often the result of academic training, 
and which cannot be got rid of. struggle with 
the trammels as the clergyman may. We 
are firmly of opinion that university education 
has cramped many a mind, which, but for it. 
would have seared with an unshackled wing : 
not that we condemn a classical education — 
far from it. We onlv deprecate that svstem 



REV. DR. CAXDLISH. 257 

which regards it as of "all in all" impor- 
tance. 

All the world is aware that, some years 
since. Mrs. Trollope produced a novel in three 
volumes, entitled ;t The Vicar of Wrexhill," 
but half the world does not know that the 
Vicar of Harrow-on-the Hill was the clergy- 
man satirised in that clever, but spiteful 
production ; in fact the fictitious Vicar of 
"WrexhilL Mrs. Trollope's object of dislike, was 
the Rev. J. W. Cunningham. It seems that 
the lady, from some cause or other, took into 
her head to quarrel with Mr. Cunningham, in 
whose parish she resided, and gratified ber ani- 
mosity by producing a novel, in which she held 
her spiritual pastor and master up to contempt. 
Clever as the lady confessedly is, we think she 
made a grand mistake in this instance, and we 
believe she afterwards repented it ; but then 
she got ofSOO for her novel, which, perhaps, 
acted as a salve to her conscience. Mr. Cun- 
ningham is much beloved by his parishioners, 
and holds a high position in the church, so that 
we doubt not the barbed shaft, which Mrs. 
Trollope aimed, fell short of its mark, or, if it 
touched, but slightly wounded. 

We felt loth to leave that pretty Harrow 
p 2 



258 REV. DR. CAXLLISH. 

church-yard : but we had determined to reach 
town by six o'clock ; so taking a last view 
of the broad landscape, lighted up by a meri- 
dian sun. and of Byron's stone, we sauntered 
towards our quarters ; and having there re- 
freshed the inner man. once more started, staff 
in hand, on the Harrow road, and commenced 
our second ten-mile walk that day. 

Just as the clock was striking six. we passed 
St. Pancras, and before half an hour more had 
elapsed, we were at the door of the Scotch 
Church in Eegent Square, struggling with 
might and main to effect an entrance, in o: 
to hear the Rev, Dr. Candlish. of Edinburgh. 

This Regent Square Church was. we believe, 
built for the Sev. Edward Irving. Its present 
pastor is the Eev. Dr. James Hamilton, of 
whom we will say a word or two before we 
specially refer to the Edinburgh divine. 

Dr. Hamilton is the mostpoetical of preachers. 
Like the person described in Hudibras. 

" lie scarce can ope 



His mouth, but out there £:es a trope ;*' 

he is the Moore of the Pulpit : like the poet 
of Lallah Rookh. he possesses vivid imagina- 
tion, brilliant fettcy, and sparkling phraseology, 



REV. DR. CAXDLISH. 259 

His sentences are strings of pearls, and what- 
ever subject he touches he invariably adorns. 
His affluence of imagery is surprising. To 
illustrate some particular portion of Scripture, 
he will lay. Science, Art, and Natural History 
under contribution, and astonish us by the 
vastness of his acquirements, and his tact in 
availing himself of the stores of knowledge 
which from all sources he has garnered up in his 
mind. But plenteous as are the flowers of 
eloquence with which he presents us, their 
perfume, their sweetness, does not cloy. Vie 
listen in absolute wonderment, as he pours forth 
a stream of eloquence whose surface exhibits 
the irridescent hues of loveliness — one tint, as it 
fades awav. being succeeded bv another and a 
brighter. And a pure spirit of earnest piety 
pervades the whole of the sermon, the only 
drawback of which, to Southern ears, being the 
broad Scotch accent in which it is delivered. 

As a writer, Dr. Hamilton is no less charm- 
ing than as a preacher. His cheap series of 
tracts, entitled, " The Happy Home,"'' are ex- 
quisite productions, and should be found in 
every household. We have seen no religious 
works which, for beauty of composition, and 
the felicitous mode of treating Scriptural subjects 



260 REV. DR. CANDLISH. 

familiarly, can be at all compared with them. 
We are sorry to say it, but it is no less strange 
than true, that the great mass of religious tracts 
issued at the present day, are, so far as their 
literary merits are concerned, mere rubbish. 
The cheap tracts of Dr. Hamilton are steps in 
the right direction — steps which we trust will 
be followed by other writers. 



At length, after a little exertion, we have 
gained the interior of Eegent Square Church. 
It is a spacious building, and it is literally 
crammed. Among the fashionable congregation. 
we noticed the Duke and Duchess of Argyle, 
the Earl of Carlisle, and Lady John Russell. 

Getting a seat is quite out of the question ; 
so we are compelled, after walking rather more 
than twenty miles, to stand in the thronged 
aisle. Never mind ; we will make the best of 
our position, and console ourself with the re- 
flection that we are no worse off than many 
ethers. It is some consolation to have com- 
panions in misfortune. 

We never beheld Dr. Candlish in his chapel 
in Edinburgh ; but we had frequently heard of 
his great popularity there. The first time we 



REV, DR. CANDLISH. 261 

ever had the pleasure of seeing him was at Ex- 
eter Hall, when he advocated the claims of the 
Young Men's London Christian Knowledge 
Society, or some such name — for at the present 
moment we do not exactly remember it, and 
have not the means of ascertaining, We 
entered the Hall while a gentleman was speak- 
ing most energetically, and knew, from what 
we had previously heard, that it must be Dr 
Candlish. and our surmise was correct. 

He was of the middle height, and slightly 
formed. His head was superb — high and 
broad, and rather prominent. Surmounting it 
was a large quantity of brownish hair, which, 
we venture to say, was guiltless of " Macassar, 
and we liked it all the better for that. 
Whiskers, large, and of the same colour, 
bounded his pale face. The eyes were sunken, 
and solemn-looking ; the nose small, the 
mouth small also. Pale was the complexion 
— that sort of pallor which is the result, not 
of disease, but of brain-work. The figure of 
the reverend doctor presented nothing striking, 
the only marked peculiarity being the shortness 
of the neck, and the consequent height of the 
shoulders, which gave him rather an ungainly 
appearance, when flinging his arms about in the 
heat and excitement of his address. 



262 RE\. DR. CANDLISH. 

Let us now observe Dr. Candlish as he 
preaches in the Scotch Church pulpit. 

With the exception of being clad in canoni- 
cals, the reverend gentleman, of course, presents 
much the same appearance as he did on the 
platform of Exeter Hall. In a broad Scotch 
dialect he commences his sermon. At first his 
tones are low and indistinct, but, as he proceeds, 
the volume of his voice increases, and his action 
becomes somewhat exuberant. His eyes 
lighten up, and the muscles of his face betray 
the workings of his mind. Not for a single 
instant is he still ; his arms are now extended, 
now thrown abroad, and now both are being 
flourished about to the imminent danger of the 
ground-glass shades of the pulpit-lamps. 

On he goes with great rapidity, and without 
the slightest hesitation, — his voice growing 
husky, as his ideas flow faster and faster. 
There is no mistake about Dr. Candlish's 
earnestness ; you can see that he deeply feels 
what he is preaching, and that he is intensely 
anxious to impress the great truths he is eluci~ 
dating on the minds and consciences of his 
hearers. Great learning and vast research are 
evident in his discourse. No second-rate man 
could preach as he preaches, nor produce such 



REV. DR. CANDLISH. 263 

impressions. If his sermons are not so attrac- 
tive as Dr. Hamilton's, as it regards the florid 
character of the latter gentleman's productions, 
they are stamped with an excellence all their 
own : if the stream of oratory is not so brilliant, 
it is quite as deep. "Well is it that ministers 
should and do differ, since so various are the 
dispositions of those to whom they are sent. 

Dr. Candlish ranks amongst the most 
eminent Scottish Divines of the present clay, 
and deservedly so. His popularity is amazing, 
and his influence in the ecclesiastical affairs of 
his native country great. He is, we should 
presume, about fifty years of age. and, there- 
fore, it may be reasonably expected that a long 
period of usefulness is before him. Surely a 
Church which can boast of such men as 
Wardlaw. Candlish, Beattie, and Hamilton, 
and which glories in the memory of a Chalmers, 
ought to be, as we believe it is, one of the 
"lights of the world." 



264 



THE REV. THOMAS BINNEY, 

OF LONDON. 

Nearly twenty years ago, when about to visit 
London for the first time, we asked a much- 
valued friend of ours, himself a minister of rare 
abilities, what London divine he would recom- 
mend us to hear. We had then, as now, no 
great liking for dull preachers, and our friend 
was aware of this. After a hint, that we 
ought not to be mere intellect-hunters, he said , 
" I think you would like Binney, — go and hear 
him ; he preaches at the Weigh-house chapel." 

The name was then new to us, but we 
resolved to act upon his recommendation. 

Accordingly, a few Sundays subsequently, 
we left our lodgings, and dived into that 
labyrinth of streets which lies between Corn- 
hill and the river, in search of the Weigh- 



REV. THOMAS BINNEY. 265 

house chapel. Being then new to the metro- 
polis, it is not to be wondered at, that amid the 
congeries, lanes, and narrow streets of that part 
of the " City," we speedily lost ourself, and were 
as much puzzled as we have frequently since 
been in the maze of Hampton Court. Dingy 
warehouses, many stories high, frowned on us ; 
shut-up counting-houses, and wharves, sur- 
rounded us on all sides ; and here and there 
a hideous City Golgotha, with grassless graves, 
and surrounded by houses, made us shudder, 
and think of the pleasant country church-yards 
in which we had loved to wander. But no 
chapel could we see, and the few persons we 
chanced to inquire of, appeared to be quite as 
ignorant of the locality as ourselves. For a 
dreary half-hour we thus stalked from one 
street and lane to another, and were about to 
relinquish the chapel pursuit altogether, when, 
on turning a corner, we beheld a number of 
people, singly and in pairs, proceeding in one 
direction. We saw at a glance that they were 
going to some place of worship ; and taking it 
for granted that they were some of Mr. Binney^s 
congregation, we joined the procession, and 
soon arrived at the Weigh-house chapel. 

In our search, we had passed it half-a-dozeu 
a 



266 REV. THOMAS BINNEY. 

times, or more, without the least idea that we 
were near the place we had sought, for there 
were no chapel indications externally. The 
building had formerly been a weighing-house 
for certain articles of commerce, but was after- 
wards converted into a chapel — hence the name 
of Mr. Binney's place of worship. 

The entrance was beneath a projecting storey 
of the old weigh-house. which was supported 
by rude wooden pillars, destitute of ornament 
of any kind. Passing the doors, we mounted 
a night of steps, and then, for the first time, 
saw something like a chapel. It was a plain 
oblong building, the pulpit being situated mid- 
way on one of the long sides, nearly opposite 
the entrance-door. Remembering our friend 
had told us. that if we wished to hear Mr. 
Binney comfortably, we must sit near the 
pulpit, we managed to secure a position almost 
directly in front of it. and afterwards had rea- 
son to congratulate ourselves on having so 
done. 

The moment we saw a gentleman ascending 
the pulpit stairs, we felt assured, from the 
description we had previously been favoured 
with, that he must be the minister of whom 
we had latterly heard so much. He was tall, 



REV. THOMAS BINNEY. 267 

and large-chested, but the head and face were 
the most strikingly intellectual in their cleve- 
lopements we had ever looked upon. 

We shall not, however, in this place, go on 
to describe Mr. Binney's then personal appear- 
ance, as we shall presently have occasion to 
present to the reader a later portrait of him. 
And as he is on the whole but slightly altered 
since we first beheld him, that omission will 
not be at all material. 

In a tone of voice so low, as to be heard 
with great difficulty, even by us, who were so 
near him, the reverend gentleman read a 
chapter. Sure are we, that those in the re- 
mote parts of the chapel, unless they were 
gifted with double sensitive ears, could not 
catch a connected sentence; indeed, outstretched 
necks, and hands placed behind the ear to 
reflect the sound of his voice, indicated the 
difficulty of hearing. At that time gutta- 
percha tubing was unknown, or it might have 
been advantageously employed. 

The other day, when on a provincial trip, we 
chanced to enter a large church, in one of our 
principal towns, and were surprised to observe 
in a pew, far removed from the pulpit — one of 
the pews for the poor, in fact — eight or nine old 



268 REV. THOMAS EINXEY, 

people, each of whom held in his or her right 
hand a little pipe, the extremity of which was 
placed close to their ears. Of course I had 
seen ear-trumpets, and ear-cornets, and all 
those things, long before, — but here was 
nothing trumpet-like, for the pipe disappeared 
in the depths of the pew, as that of a beer- 
engine does in the abyss of a publican's cellar. 
After the service was concluded, I asked the 
beadle all about it. 

"Why," 11 said that individual; "you see. 
sir, as them old poppers is all deaf — deaf as 
beetles — and our churchwardens have had 
pipes laid down for 'em so as they can hear all 
as the clergyman says. Come this way, sir, 
and 111 show you the way on it." 

I followed, and guided by the beadle, entered 
the pulpit, and then the matter was rendered 
plain enough. Just at the edge of the cushion 
in front was a piece of japanned metal, some- 
what in the shape of a funnel — the large end 
being opposite and on a level with my waist 
as I stood in the clergyman's place. To the 
other and small end of the funnel, a gutta 
percha tube was attached, and this communi- 
cated (unseen) with several branch pipes in the 
Deaf Pew. It will at once be understood that 



REV. THOMAS BINNEY. 269 

the preacher's tones were thus easily collected 
and conveyed to the poor deaf paupers, who, 
but for this simple contrivance, might have sat 
until Doomsday without hearing a word. It 
may be worthy of remark, that the funnel was 
so concealed by the cushion, that it could not 
be seen from the body of the church. 

To return to Mr. Binney. The prayer, 
which succeeds the reading of a chapter in the 
Bible, is eminently devotional. The voice of 
the minister is deep and solemn, and his man- 
ner that of one who feels how infinitely great 
He is with whom he has to do. There is no 
familiarity — no bawling — no hurry , all is 
calmness, earnestness, and quiet supplication. 
The prayer — a short exercise — concludes, and 
another hymn is sung. 

The utmost stillness prevails as Mr. Binney 
rises to commence his sermon. That he is ex- 
cessively nervous is easily perceptible, from 
the anxious look which he directs to some part 
of the chapel whence a slight noise proceeds, 
and by the occasional twitching of his facial 
muscles. In a very low tone, he names his 
text, and then a pause ensues — during which 
he runs his fingers through the thin locks of 
hair which partially stream across his forehead, 



270 REV. THOMAS BINNEY. 

and appears to be collecting his powers for 
some great effort. At length he begins, still 
in a low tone, but with so much impressiveness 
of manner, that the few words which he utters 
slowly, and with intervals between every short 
sentence, produce twenty times more effect 
than if they had been bellowed forth by some 
son of Thunder. As he proceeds, we at once 
perceive that a man of amazing power stands 
before us, and we listen with the utmost 
attention lest a word should escape us. In- 
deed, to hear Mr. Binney to advantage, the 
attention of the hearer must not flag for one 
instant. He is a metaphysical preacher — a 
sort of Coleridge in the pulpit ; though not so 
dreamy or vague as that great man ; an orator 
who, perhaps, can only be fully appreciated by 
those whose minds have been sedulously 
cultivated. Seldom raising his voice, on he 
goes, now appearing to struggle with the ideas 
which crowd on his mind, and now pouring 
them forth in a continuous stream. His action 
is peculiar, and chiefly consists in his placing 
the forefingers of his right hand on the palm of 
his left, or in the before-mentioned running of 
his fingers through his hair, thusjf tossing it 
about in the most careless manner imaginable, 



11EV. THOMAS BINOT.Y. 271 

At length he draws to a conclusion, and then 
none — not even the humblest-minded of his 
hearers, can misunderstand him. With great 
solemnity he appeals to the sinner's conscience, 
and indurated indeed must that heart be which 
is not affected by his earnest exhortations. 

Mr. Binney no longer officiates at the old 
Weigh House, but in a large chapel, which 
was built for him, near the Monument. It 
was on the occasion of the laying the foundation- 
stone of this edifice, that he made the remark 
which created at the time so much excitement, 
that " The Church of England destroyed more 
souls than it saved 1 ' — an unguarded remark at 
all events. There he still labours, and ranks 
among the first — perhaps is generally regarded 
as the first of London preachers. 

In stature, Mr. Binney is, as we have 
intimated, tall. When we saw him, a few 
Sabbaths since, he appeared to be growing, as 
popular preachers generally do, stout ; in other 
respects we observed little difference in him. 
But that grand head of his was the same. We 
never beheld such a lofty, massive, highly 
intellectual forehead as Binney's ; it seems 
piled up ; story upon story of brain, built each 
over the other — and yet it is symmetrical. 



272 REV. THOMAS BINNEY. 

Why, we should think there was enough 
cerebral matter in that cranium, to serve for 
half a dozen moderately clever men. As 
we looked on that immense forehead, the 
other Sunday, we thought of the heavy brain 
of Napoleon, and Byron, and wondered how 
much Mr. Binney's might weigh I " You had 
better have been thinking of something else," 
perhaps some one will say. — Possibly so ; but 
for the life of us we could not help it. The 
eyes of the preacher are of a light grey, as 
near as we could make them out — the nose 
large and long ; and the mouth thin-lipped and 
compressed. There are little or no whiskers 
— a deficiency which many great men have 
pleaded guilty to. The chin is pointed and 
dimpled, and the whole face is expressive of 
grave, and solemn, and severe thinking. 

With all his talent and acquirements, Mr. 
Binney is a most unequal preacher. We have 
heard him deliver sermons remarkable for their 
grandeur, and we have listened to discourses so 
feeble, that we could scarcely believe Mr. 
Binney could be their author. He has some 
crotchety notions too, but our subject is so 
great a favourite, that they are taken little 
notice of; in lesser men they would not be 



REV, THOMAS BINNET. 273 

tolerated. His excellencies far, very far out- 
weigh his failings — and, despite his peculiarities, 
he is a truly great preacher. 

About six years since, when sojourning in 
the city of Boston, United States, we entered 
a chap eh and to our unutterable surprise, who 
should we see in the pulpit but Mr. Binney ; 
— he was not, however, appreciated by the 
Americans. At that time, Mr. Binney was 
suffering from ill-health, and perhaps he may 
not have been, nor indeed was he, when we 
heard him, in one of his happy moods. 

Mr. Barney's congregation is large and 
wealthy, and we question, whether many a 
much abused Kector of the State Church does 
not receive a far smaller salary than the Pastor 
of the New Weigh House Chapel. But, as it 
would be sheer impertinence to speculate on 
any man's private income, we here lay aside 
our pen, simply recommending all who admire 
sterling evangelical, intellectual preaching, to 
go and hear the Reverend Thomas Binney. 



a 2 



274 



THE REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 

0¥ BIRMINGHAM. 

"Never heard Angel James "f asked a Jady 
of us. in surprise, some time since, after she 
had been praising that gentleman's " Family 
Monitor" to the skies — ;t Never heard John 
Angel James, of Birmingham P 

A reiterated negative was our reply. 

"Then." remarked the lady. " you have a 
treat in store." And she went on to inform us 
that that gentleman was engaged to preach an 
anniversary sermon at a place called Kin£:s= 
wood, in Gloucestershire, on the following 
evening ; and thither, as the distance from 
our then residence was not great, we decided 
to go. 

It was one of England's golden summer 
afternoons, as. accompanied by a friend, now, 



HEW JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 275 

alas ! no more, we drove from the crowded 
city. The hedgerows were covered with blos- 
soms of the white thorn, called " May, 11 and 
wild woodbines, which hung in graceful clusters, 
or fancifully festooned the trees, sent forth de- 
licious perfumes on the soft and balmy air. 
As soon as we cleared the always dingy out- 
skirts of the town, the bright, broad open 
country lay before us, and the only sounds 
which fell upon our ears were the shrill whistle 
of the blackbird — the prolonged song of the 
lark, as he soared high in heaven, and the 
gurgling notes of the thrush, from within his 
thicket of leaves. Occasionally, that sound 
peculiarly characteristic of an English land- 
scape, produced by the whetting of the mower's 
scythe, would be heard, and far away might 
be seen farms dotting the verdant slopes ; and 
every now and then we passed trim cottages, 
with bird-cages at the doors, and little flower 
gardens in front, of surpassing neatness, in 
which chubby-faced flaxen haired children 
played, or shouted in merry glee, as they 
climbed up the gate to gaze upon our vehicle 
as it whirled merrily along. Then, as we 
passed some of those pretty homesteads, we 
marked the thin wreaths of blue smoke ascend- 



276 RRV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 

ing from the low chimnies. and detected the 
savoury odours of rashers of bacon, which were 
toasting within. Should any one who has 
ever travelled through the rural districts of 
England, read this chapter, he will understand 
bow voraciously we longed for a slice, for the 
smell of eggs and bacon, issuing from an English 
farm-house or cottage, is one of the most tor- 
menting, delicious, trying things in the world, 
to passers by. whom the country air has ren- 
dered peculiarly susceptible to such gastrono" 
mico-oifactoral impressions. 

Kingswood is a district in the west of 
England, chiefly inhabited by colliers, there 
being a number of coal-pits in the neighbour- 
hood. A more unpoetical part of creation 
could not well be imagined, and it may be 
remembered, that the celebrated Whitfield 
refers, in some of his letters, to the great de- 
gradation of the place. Indeed Kingswood 
was a prominent scene of both his labours 
and those of his great contemporary. Wesley ; 
the latter of whom founded a school there for 
the education of sous of Methodist ministers, 
which is still in existence. And we can 
conceive of no place more in need of religious 
instruction. Bud indeed must it have been 



REY. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 277 

seventy or eighty years ago, if it be true that 
it is now much improved, for wretched enough, 
in all truth is it still. A stranger entering the 
district might almost suppose that he had got 
into, to use a common but expressive phrase, 
the t; back slums'" of creation. 

Fancy, reader, a wild country village, — a 
village, too, on the outskirts of a great city, 
which is its curse, for all the crime, misery, and 
wretchedness of the latter, and none of its 
worth, civilization, or comfort, reaches the little 
collection of houses which is in its neighbour- 
hood. In that village, the roads, houses, 
hedges, trees, gardens, are all black with coal 
dust. The inhabitants are dark, brutal, savage, 
and profligate ; and the sexes are so little dis- 
tinguished by dress, that in many cases it 
would be impossible to distinguish men from 
women, or girls from boys. Look into one of 
the miserable homes which stand surrounded 
by an unfenced cabbage plot, and you shall 
see scenes of depravity which will make your 
heart sicken, and hear oaths and blasphemies, 
from children's lips, which to Satan's ears must 
be exquisite music. Walk into one of the 
scores of beer-houses, over which rudely painted 
sign-boards inform the passer-by, that, if so 



278 REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES 

disposed, -he might be " drunk on the premises," 
and there you may see groups of men and boys, 
black and ragged, with candles stuck in their 
hats, and earthenware mugs in their hands, in 
all the stages of intoxication. Then mark 
them reeling home to their places of abode, 
where huddled together, more like brutes than 
human beings, whole families, " like dogs de- 
light to bark and bite,' 1 and you will have some 
idea of Kingswood. 

But there is some light even in the darkest 
place; and as our vehicle rolls through the dusty 
road, on either side of which wretched hovels 
are scattered, we behold, picking her careful 
way, from one of these homes of wretchedness 
to another, a young girl, clad in the simplest 
and plainest of brown cotton dresses — with 
one of what fashionable Misses would call the 
very dowdiest of bonnets upon her head, and 
with a reticule basket, of no very small dimen- 
sions, hanging on her arm. To look m the 
young lady's face, you w r ould not take the 
trouble to turn your head if you met her in a 
crowded street, but as she emerges from some 
coal-black cottage, followed to its door by a he- 
woman, and then disappears in a trice, into the 
darkness of a neighbouring dwelling, you be- 



REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 279 

come curious to see and know who she may 
be. 

Her face is not handsome, or beautiful, or 
even pretty ; her figure is not pinched into 
fashionable propriety, nor does she wear those 
thin soled shoes, which keep undertakers busy 
and make sextons rejoice ; her hands are cased 
in no lemon-coloured kids, and her shoulders 
never kept company with a Cashmere shawl. 
But without showy attractions, her features are 
of a thoughtful cast, and one could scarcely 
better describe them than by the word " inte- 
resting." If you observe her closely, you will 
perceive that at some of the cottage doors, she 
merely stops — draws a tract from her basket, 
and quietly drops it ; but in other instances, you 
may see her sitting inside the doorway, whilst 
the owner of the place is dropping her innu- 
merable curtseys, and miss-mg her at every 
second word. Well, reader, we have sketched 
for you as accurately as we can, a country 
Parson's daughter — the child of the Vicar of 
the parish. We are drawing no imaginary 
portrait. The young lady we have taken the 
liberty of sketching was a reality of flesh and 
blood. TVas, we say, for having finished her 
work, she has gone to her reward. Great as her 
talents were, and admired, and beloved as she 



280 REV. JOHX ANGEL JAMES. 

was by all who knew her, she yet found it to 
be her highest privilege to attempt the enlight- 
enment of the colliers of Kingswood. Since 

we saw her. Miss E married, became a 

mother, and died ; but in many a cottage of 
the coal hamlet, her memory is fragrant. 

With reference to the present benighted 
state of the same Kingswood, we will here 
relate one anecdote, which displays a state of 
ignorance perfectly frightful to contemplate. 

Mr. E . the father of the young ladv we 

have been alluding to, was one day called to 
visit a poor old woman, who was said to be on 
the point of death. On entering her apart- 
ment, he found her in the last stage of con- 
sumption, and in much distress of mind. 
Although she had been born and brought up 
in his parish, it appeared that she had never 
been inside a church, and consequently was 
entirely ignorant of the first principles of Chris- 
tianity. When he had talked with her for 
some time, the poor creature manifested some 
interest in what he said, and after he had 
explained to her how God's only Son came on 
earth, suffered, bled, and died for sinners, he 
told her that such a sacrifice was made for her. 

" Well," said she, c - he must ha' gone 



REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 281 

through a mort o" trouble." The clergyman 
redoubled his exertions to pour light upon 
her darkened mind, and after he had again 
alluded to Christ's agonies, the old woman 
lifted up her hands, and after compassionately 
exclaiming, " Poor young genleman ! I hope 
from my heart, as it mightn't be true," fell 
back, and died. 



Kingswood is all alive this evening, for it 
is seldom enough that anything more exciting 
than a coal-pit accident occurs, (and that is 
something in the way of business,) to disturb 
the stagnant pool of their affairs, But now, 
it being understood that a great " Paason" from 
"Brummagem* is going to preach in their chapel, 
there are unusual washings and polishings up ; 
and as the hour for commencing the service 
approaches, forth from many of the cottages 
the inhabitants emerge, while at the doors of 
other dwellings, colliers, just from the pit, 
lounge stupidly ; and around the public-houses 
are groups of dingy men and women, who jeer 
the better disposed portion of the inhabitants 
as they seek the House of Prayer; nor do our 



282 ItEV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 

companion and our self escape without sundry 
remarks on our dress, which are by no means 
complimentary. 

At length, we reach the little chapel ; 
already is it crowded, and although the side 
windows are let down as far as possible, the heat 
is almost unbearable ; so calm is the evening, 
that the leaves of the trees just outside the 
chapel are as still as though the stems were 
made of iron. Streams of perspiration trickle 
down the walls, and the faces of a few of the 
colliers, who had ventured within the doors 
with unwashed faces, look as though they had 
been polished with Day and Martin's jet. 
But no one complains — all are on tip-toe to 
hear the great man from the Iron Metropolis. 

How very different are the realities of life, 
from what we are apt to imagine them to be ! 
When we read Mr. Angel James's works, we 
considered their author to be a mild-looking, 
middle-aged gentleman, with a most benevolent 
cast of countenance, and one of the softest 
voices in the world. In the whole course of 
our lives we were never more mistaken ; and, 
indeed, this is generally the case with most of 
us ; we are apt to paint imaginary pictures 
of famous people, and familiarise ourselves 



REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 283 

with a certain set of features, until we arrive 
at the belief that they are daguerrotypes ; but 
when we see the individual face to face, he is 
generally directly the opposite of what we sup- 
posed him ; and thus was it with our fancy- 
portrait of John Angel James — it was just the 
reverse of what the original turned out to be. 

Whilst the first hymn was being sung, we 
heard a bustle near the door of the chapel, and 
turning round to ascertain the cause, saw about 
half a dozen gentlemen entering, and with 
some difficulty, making their way through the 
crowded aisle. They were headed by the regular 
minister, and he was no dwarf, but behind him 
was one who towered far above him. This 
gentleman was ushered to the pulpit, and there 
he toob his seat. 

" Why that, surely, cannot be Mr. James ?" 
I asked. 

" If it's not him — it is his ghost," was our 
friend's reply. 

That the occupant of the sacred desk was 
no shadow was quite evident, for we almost 
fancy we heard the pulpit creak as he sat in it; 
and when he rose to commence the service, the 
flesh and blood realitv convinced us that, 
indeed, a living man stood before us. Let us 
describe him, 



284 KEV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 

He was, as we have intimated, tall, and he ( 
was stout in proportion. The head was of a 
rather globular shape, and scantily covered 
with hair, amongst which Time had scattered 
his silver seed. The forehead was not re- 
markably high, but it was broad, and, as a 
phrenologist might say, well developed. The 
eyes small and piercing, the nose somewhat of 
the shortest, and the mouth large. The shape 
of the face was rather round than oval ; its 
skin was rough — almost granulated, and its 
complexion was anything but what people 
style fair. Now, reader, let this head be 
attached to a capacious chest, and a frame and 
limbs seemingly of iron strength, and you may 
form some notion of the Rev. John Angel 
James, as, clad in gown and bands, he stands 
in the pulpit of the little Kings wood chapel, 
As we gaze on him, we involuntarily say to 
ourselves — " Well, he is just such a preacher as 
we ought to have imagined would come from 
Birmingham, where stalwart and sinewy men 
abound ;" and we cannot tell how it was, but, 
so it was, that as we still looked at Mr. James, 
visions of sledge-hammers, and ponderous anvils, 
and moving monstrous beams flitted before our 
mind's eye. Who can resist the spells of asso- 



REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 285 

ciation — almost absurd though at times they 
may be ? 

Mr. James, after another minister has gone 
through the preliminary portions of the service, 
rises, opens the Bible, and selects his text. 
It is from the portion of the Old Testament 
where Nathan exclaimed to King David, 
" Thou art the man." The voice of the 
preacher is deep, and not unmelodious, and 
his manner exceedingly solemn. As he is 
about to read his text for the second time, he 
looks searchingly around, and as he gazes from 
pew to pew, he repeats the word " Thou" 
several times ; when he has completed his 
survey of the chapel, he, in low and thrilling 
accents, adds — " art the man." Commencing 
with a reference to the context, the preacher 
drew a vivid picture of David's crime, and 
Nathan's fearless exposure of it, and then with 
admirable conciseness divided his subject into 
appropriate heads, and proceeded with great 
power to enlarge upon them. The style of 
the reverend gentleman was what may be 
termed forcible ; he sought not to use florid 
sentences, or brilliant metaphors, or flashing 
rhetoric, to impress the truth on his hearers ; 
but, as with a sledge-hammer, he drove the 



286 REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 

nail of conviction to the heart, and by vigorous 
efforts, sought to clench it — if we may be 
permitted to use such a rough simile. There 
was no dallying with the welfare of immortal 
souls, no finessing with matters of infinite im- 
portance. Stern, solemn, irrefragable truths 
were proclaimed, and insisted on. Yet with 
all this there was no coarseness, nothing vulgar, 
nought which might offend the most fastidious. 
Great strength of intellect was evinced, and 
vast powers of thinking were brought to bear 
on the subject chosen. And when the wind- 
up of the sermon came, the solemn, earnest, 
almost terrible appeals of the minister to the 
various classes of his hearers, were thrilling in- 
deed, and evidently produced a mighty effect 
on all who heard him. " Thou art the man 11 
rang in many an ear, we doubt not, long after 
the discourse terminated. 

Great effects are frequently produced by 
short and pithy texts — that is, when they are 
handled by able men. We have elsewhere, 
in this work, referred to the power which the 
Rev. James Parsons, of York, exercises in this 
respect. Some years sinse, we heard the cele- 
brated William Dawson, of Leeds, deliver one 
of the most telling of even his sermons, from 



REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 287 

a text of four heads : — " Why will ye die f 1 
He divided his discourse into four heads — 
taking one word of his text as a basis of each 
subdivision : — 

I. — Why will ye die ? 

II. — Why will ye die I 

III.— Why will ye die? 

IV.— Why will ye die ? 

In this manner asking a reason ; inquiring 
as to a choice ; making a personal question of 
it ; and lastly, summing up the whole, by a 
consideration of Death. In our opinion, four 
simpler, or more self-evident sections of the 
subject could not be discerned, though years 
should be employed in the endeavour to discover 
such. 

The sermon concluded just after the sun had 
gone down, and twilight had commenced its 
sweet, but short reign ; a hymn was sung very 
sweetly — a brief prayer was offered up, and we 
left the chapel and proceeded homewards. 

" The moon was up and yet it was not night/' 

And pleasantly we rattled along the high 



288 REV. JOHN ANGEL JAMES. 

road conversing on the sermon we had heard. 
Soon we entered the great city once more, and 
with the sounds of Angel James's voice still 
ringing in our ears, sought — 

" Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." 

Mr. James is, as every one knows, a rather 
voluminous author. His works on " Family 
Matters" are, we believe, the most popular. 
He has also published some volumes of 
sermons and speeches. 



289 



THE " GOLDEN ' LECTURER, AND THE 
CLERICAL " MOLL AH." 



THE REV. HENRY MELVILLE, M.A., 



REV. JOSEPH WOLFE, D.D. 

The reverend gentlemen, whose names head 
this chapter, are both famous men in their way, 
— and both, one especially, are very popular. 
The public runs after one of them, because as 
from the lips of the girl in the "Fairy Tale" — 
pearls and diamonds of eloquence fall whenever 
he speaks in the pulpit ; and it rushes to look 
at the other ; and like Desdemona, 

" Loves him for the dangers he has passed." 

As thousands may never have the opportunity 
of seeing or hearing either the one or the 

R 



290 REV. HENitY MELVILLE, M.A., AND 

other, though there must be few, indeed, to 
whom their names are not familiar, we w T ill, 
in this article, endeavour to convey to our 
headers some particulars respecting each of 
them. 

We will take the auriferous lecturer first, so 
let us make the best of our way to the church 
of Saint Margaret, in Lothbury. 

And a remarkably fit place is that same 
Lothbury for a " Golden" lecture to be preached 
in. On one side is the Bank of England, in 
whose vaults bars of bullion are piled from 
floor to roof, and in whose various rooms 
sovereigns chink, and bank notes fly about, in 
the most marvellous manner, to the uninitiated. 
Opposite the bank, are other temples of Mam- 
mon ; magnificent edifices, from whose portals 
emerge, every moment, substantial-looking men, 
who cram bundles of seductive looking paper 
into their pockets, and then " go on their way 
rejoicing." Everything around you tells of 
money — money— money ; hundreds of people 
go by on busy feet, all intent ori getting gold. 
Here and there you may see a face despairingly 
turned towards the bank doors, and oh ! what 
tales they tell ! No one being on earth can, 
we should think, be so wretched as a penniless, 



REV. JOSEPH WOLFE, D.D. 291 

hungry man, who has seen " better days," who 
stands at the door of a London bank, watching 
the comers out with pleasant faces, chinking 
the sovereigns in their pockets with vast self- 
satisfaction. Sad sight — mournful music to 
the miserable and forlorn ! 

u Gold and gold, and nothing but gold, 
Yellow and hard, and shining and cold," 

environs us on every side — but we must not 
forget the " Golden" lecture whilst pondering 
on the precious metal itself. 

Why, or by whom the "Golden Lectureship" 
was established, we never troubled ourself to 
inquire. All we know is, that it is worth 
some eight hundred pounds a year, and that 
the lecture is preached every Tuesday morning 
in the afore mentioned Church of St, Margaret ; 
so that the lucky holder of the preferment gets 
about fifteen pounds ten shillings for every 
sermon he delivers. 

Quitting, then, the hurry and bustle with- 
out, — and, to say the truth, glad for a brief 
season to lose the ceaseless roar of Oheapside 
and Oornhill, we enter the church. We had 
imagined that, as it was a week-day, we should 
find but a meagre congregation ; the more so, 



292 REV. HENRY MELVILLE, M.A., AND 

as on a Friday morning not long before we had 
" dropped in v when the curate was reading 
prayers in that very church, and ascertained 
that fifteen persons only were present. But 
how were we surprised to find that beyond the 
inner door it was next to an impossibility to 
fight our way. However, as we seldom deter- 
mine to do anything without in the end 
accomplishing it, we struggled onward until 
we gained a good position in the aisle. 

What a crowd ! it was almost as dense as 
that which was packed in the pit of Drury 
Lane, on Macready's farewell night. Fourteen 
years had elapsed since we were hemmed in by 
just such another, when Mr. Melville preached 
at St. Dunstan's, so that his popularity, it 
seemed, was undiminished. After being side- 
and-toe-tortured for three quarters of an hour, 
the prayers came to a conclusion, and the 
u G-olden v lecturer made his appearance. Twice 
seven years before, Mr. Melville's hair was jet 
black and curly — now, though Time had not 
much " thinned his flowing locks," it had 
not changed their hue ; but his dark expressive 
eyes were as brilliant as ever, and his fine fore- 
head as expressive, and his whole face as indi- 
cative of genius. We will not attempt to 



REV. JOSEPH WOLFE, D.D. 293 

describe his features, for the simple and suffi- 
cient reason, that no words we might use could 
convey any accurate idea of them. Sepa- 
ratively considered, they were not remarkable ; 
but, combined, they formed one of the most 
expressive countenances we ever beheld. The 
cast of the face w T as Hibernian, no one could 
mistake that ; and the vivacity which almost 
invariably characterises the sons of Erin, was 
also apparent on it. 

The reverend gentleman having read that 
part of Scripture which he intended to expound, 
plunged at once into hi3 subject, and with 
astonishing brilliancy glanced at every point of 
it in his fluent exordium. Then he proceeded 
with great rapidity to develope the meaning of 
the passage, employing language so sparkling 
and rhetoric, so brilliant, as almost to make 
one imagine that Tom Moore had turned 
parson. Hearing Mr, Melville was like walk- 
ing, as did Aladdin, through avenues, on 
either side of which were nought but glittering 
treasures. His style was ornamented to the 
utmost, yet it was evident enough that elabo- 
ration had been sedulously practised. Indeed 
we have heard that Mr. Melville writes and 
re- writes his sermons, until they arrive at his 
r 2 



294 REV. HENRY MELVILLE, M.A., AND 

standard of perfection — and a high standard it 
is. A week, it is said, he not unfrequently 
devotes to the composition of a single discourse, 
and we can easily believe it, for every sermon 
he delivers is characterised by the most minute 
attention to every portion thereof. There is no 
sentence but what is exquisitely balanced — no 
period which is not elegantly rounded ; every 
simile is perfect and apt — every descriptive 
passage is graphic in the extreme. Yet, with 
all this polish, the power is not impaired — the 
force is not lost in the polish. Rapidly proceeds 
the orator, never for a moment flagging, nor 
becoming commonplace — as soon as one rain- 
bow begins to fade, another as brilliant succeeds 
it;— ' 

"Like the waves of the summer, when one dies away, 
Another as bright and as shining comes on." 

The fountain from whence this stream of 
magic eloquence springs, appears to be exhaust- 
less. For three quarters of an hour the "list- 
eners in the solemn aisle''' appear spell-bound ; 
and, indeed, they are so, for they are charmed 
by the " so potent eloquence of a master of his 
art." At length the music of the preacher's 
voice begins to die away, and as it ceases alto- 



REV. JOSEPH WOLFE, D.D. 295 

gether, a suppressed murmur of approbation 
runs through the church — a murmur which 
elsewhere would have burst into a shout of 
applause. 

We leave the church for the world once 
more, and mingle with the throng without. 
We are, however, in no mood to enjoy it; so, 
gentle reader, we pray you to concede to us 
the privileges of authorcraft, and sit with us on 
our carpet, which, like that in the " Arabian 
Nights' Entertainments,' 1 wafts us wheresoe'er 
we wish in a moment of time. 



We are in the pleasant little town of T- 



bound for the vicarage of Isle Brewers, but a 
few miles therefrom ; and here we are reminded 
of Sidney Smith ; for, in the market of this 
place we last saw him : and here, perhaps, we 
may be permitted to relate an anecdote of the 
witty canon of St. Paul's, which has never, 
we believe, been printed before. 

Somewhere in Somersetshire was a clergy- 
man, who, in consequence of the popularity of 
a dissenting preacher named Bayle, lost nearly 
the whole of his congregation. Sidney Smith 
was visiting this clergyman, when the latter 



296 REV. HENRY MELVILLE, M.A., AND 

complained to him on the subject, and said^ 
that this Mr. Bayle sometimes insulted him by 
attending his church to exult over the leanness 
of his flock. 

u Well," said Mr. Smith, u get it circulated 
that I shall preach for you next Sunday, and 
I'll see what can be done." 

Accordingly, on the next Sabbath evening, 
the church was crowded by people anxious to 
hear Sidney Smith, and among the congregation 
was Mr. Bayle. 

Mr. Smith had nearly finished his sermon 
before anything out of the way occurred. Then, 
however, he began to lecture the parishioners 
for deserting their church, and after a pause, 
exclaimed, " If the Lord be God serve Him, 
but if Baal (and he pointed to Mr. Bayle) be 
God serve Mm? and then saying " Amen," 
down he sat. 

The church of Isle Brewers is but an obscure 
edifice — but the Vicar who officiates there, is a 
man whose name and fame is European, Who 
has not heard of the gallant and perilous 
attempt of Dr. Joseph Wolfe to ascertain the 
fates of Captain Stodhart and Colonel Conolley 
in the East? Well, that same Dr. Wolfe 
is now in the pulpit of this little country 
church. We will take a glance at him. 



REV. JOSEPH WOLFE, D.D. 297 

He is about sixty years of age, of the middle 
height and stout, his head is thinly covered 
with iron-grey hair. His eyes are lightish 
coloured — the nose short, and the mouth plea- 
sant in its expression. So near-sighted is the 
Doctor, that, to read his Bible he is compelled to 
hold it almost close to his eyes. He is fluent, 
and speaks with a strong foreign accent, and 
his countenance indicates his Mosaic origin. 

Dr. Wolfe is not a particularly eloquent 
man, but he is a sound evangelical preacher. 
His great forte is the description of his travels 
in the East, and these are eminently inte- 
resting. He is profoundly learned, and we 
think rather fond of displaying his powers as a 
linguist, for we saw the other day a presenta- 
tion copy of his book to a friend of ours, in 
which he had written his name in sixteen 
different languages, most of them Oriental. No 
man living, perhaps, is better acquainted than 
himself with the customs of the East, and cer- 
tainly no one has ever displayed more courage 
and Christian fortitude in travelling through 
the most dangerous parts of Asia, with the 
generous purpose of saving two British officers 
from death. Alas ! his efforts, which nearly 
cost him his life, were futile, for he learned, 



298 REV. JOSEPH WOLFE, D.D. 

at the end of his perilous journey, that the un- 
fortunate gentlemen had already been cruelly 
massacred, 

Dr. Wolfe frequently visits London, so that 
those of our readers who may, from the perusal 
of this brief sketch of him, feel curious to see 
and hear one who has obtained so much 
notoriety as a converted Jew — a clergyman of 
the Church of England, — and a traveller, may 
doubtless have their curiosity gratified. 



299 



THE REV. DR. PUSEY, 



WITH SOME CONTEMPORARY NOTICED 

The head of the Puseyite faction, being a 
personage of some importance, we shall be 
somewhat more lengthy in our description of 
him, as we must go somewhat out of our usual 
course, in order to trace a few limnings of his 
previous mental character, The former history 
of a man, who, by his writings and personal 
influence, has produced such astounding re- 
sults, cannot but be attractive ; neither will it 
be uninteresting to observe the progress and 
transition of his mind. It is but just to say 
that, for some of the interesting particulars we 
shall refer to, we are indebted to that able 
journal the " Christian Times. " 

It will be quite unnecessary to enter into 
details of Dr. Pusey's early career ; we shall 



300 REV. DR. PUSEY. 

therefore pass over his school-days, and merely 
record the fact of his having entered Oriel 
College, Oxford, where he so greatly dis- 
tinguished himself by his attainments, that it 
was soon prophesied of him he would surely 
be a " bright particular star." That he has 
shone with great lustre none will deny ; but 
whether he has in all respects fulfilled the 
promise of his youth will be best learned from 
what follows. 

In the year 1823, Dr. Pusey was elected a 
Fellow of Oriel. An election to an Oriel 
Fellowship, at that time, implied the possession 
both of considerable ability and of character. 
The reputation which the college had pre- 
viously acquired, it was, of course, naturally 
desirous to maintain. The Society of the 
Fellows of Oriel College had then recently 
been remarkable for the amount of intellectual 
power which it included ; and "the Oriel tea- 
drinkers," as they were styled from their tee- 
total habits, although teetotalism was not then 
in vogue, were a new and strangey generation 
in the eyes of the old haunters of College 
Common-rooms, curious in old port and its 
contingencies. Dr. Coplestone, since Bishop 
of Llanciaff, was then Provost. Dr. Whateley, 



REV. DR. PUSEY. 301 

the present celebrated Archbishop of Dublin, 
and the first man of his order in Christendom, 
had just been removed to the headship of Saint 
Albans Hall ; but was still more of the Oriel 
Fellow than the Head of a House. Davison, 
u the star of Oriel," an occasional contributor 
to the Quarterly Review, and the author of the 
highly estimated " Lectures on Prophecy," 
had left for labours in a manufacturing district ; 
but his memory was yet fresh and fragrant. 
Other names of note enriched the roll of Fel- 
lows ; among them was Keble, afterwards 
Professor of Poetry, the Tractarian Poet, and 
author of the " Christian Year;" and Haw- 
kins, now Provost of the College ; and Jelf, 
the Principal of King's College, London, a 
gentleman whose recent retailing of the anec- 
dote of the Queen's pacing angrily up and down 
her royal chamber, on hearing of the Pope's 
bull, and exclaiming to Lord John Russell 
that she was Queen of England, and would not 
bear such an insult, gained for him a rather 
questionable celebrity ; — and Hampden, now 
Bishop of Hereford, lifted into notoriety by a 
persecution, the malignity of which was in- 
terspersed by political and theological hatred, 
and which will ever be a blot upon Oxford. 



302 REV. D.R. PUSEY. 

Arnold had left for Laleham about three rears 
before, and now strange to say, John Henry 
Newman, the last elected Fellow, had been 
chosen in his room ; but the Newman of the 
Church of England in 1 820, and the Father 
Newman of the Romish Church in 1851, are 
scarcely identical in more than the name. To 
this list the name of Pusey was added ; and 
three years afterwards, followed that of Robert 
Wilberforce, now Archdeacon of the East 
Riding ; and that of Froude, since dead, 
whose " Remains'" afford some insight into 
the Revolution which took place in the men- 
tal condition of more than one Fellow of 
Oriel College. 

Amongst these active and rising minds, 
moved for a time, one who had seen, felt, and 
known more than they all ; one who had done 
much and suffered more ; who had renounced 
honour, and home, and country ; and whose 
life was a double martyrdom, from bodily and 
mental suffering : Blanco White, whose inti- 
mate connection with Romanism in all its 
forms, influences, and tendencies — whose deep 
horror at the system of Popery and its results, 
it might have been thought, would have made 
his presence in Oriel College and Oxford, a 



REV. DR. PUSEY. 808 

" Preservative against Popery/' and been 
sufficient to correct those ecclesiastical views 
through which the Fellows of Oriel had 
stumbled and fallen, has caused the stumbling of 
many more, and originated and given a direction 
to a movement whose issue must be vast and 
revolutionary. But we may not dwell on the 
" Oriel men" of a quarter of a century since, 
though, without doubt, they would supply 
materials for many a volume of Pen and Ink 
Sketches of no secondary interest. Let one 
remark be tolerated ; if some of those men 
have not done so much for the Church and for 
the nation as might have been expected from 
their splendid endowments and acquirements, 
and if the misapplied abilities of others have 
proved powers for evil, it has been for the 
compressing and narrowing influence of acade- 
mical, ecclesiastical, and political institutions, 
and their supposed necessities and admitted 
claims ; these demanded for classes and orders 
what should have been " given to mankind ;" 
these have made even strong men one sided, 
and weak, and have spread a medium before 
them which has given a false colouring to the 
moral and intellectual world : and Religion 
and Politics, the Nadir and the Zenith of the 



304 REV. DR. PUSEY. 

moral system, are shrunk into infinitely small 
dimensions. 

Of such a society as this did Dr. Pusey become 
a member. Dut he did not " root himself at 
ease" in a College Fellowship, or merely accept 
it as a stepping-stone to a College Mastership or 
a College living, as do hundreds of the class. 
In about three years after his election, he left 
England for Germany, and was for months 
resident at Berlin, where he continued his 
theological studies, and the study of Hebrew, 
as well as the German language. Here Dr. 
Pusey enjoyed the friendship of the learned 
Professor Sack, of Bonn, and of the eloquent 
and devout Tholack, first amongst living 
German Divines. Assisted by these and other 
learned Germans, Dr. Pusey devoted much of 
his time to the history of the German Church. 
The truly heroic period of the Reformation fixed 
his attention. Luther, and the noble band of 
associates with him, attracted his regards, and 
inspired him with admiration. The decadence 
of the Church in respect to its piety, led 
him to close inquiry with respect to its causes. 
The rise of Spener, the earnest, the practical, 
and the devout, — w r ho w 7 as the forerunner of 
the despised Pietists, — and his efforts to breathe 



REV. DR. PUSEY. 305 

life into dead and deadening formularism, 
seized with powerful interest on Dr. Pusey's 
mind ; so that Spener appears to have become 
his ideal, — the object of his affections and 
reverence. Spener could not give life to a 
national church, though he revived the 
neglected study of the Scriptures, and did 
much towards gathering a spiritual church 
within an establishment. And so the German 
Church sank lower — descending from cherished 
" Orthodox , Formularism into Infidelity. 
The national institution, with its fixed orthodox 
symbols, bore its natural fruits, and uprose 
Rationalism. These things occupied the mind 
of the Oriel Fellow at Berlin. The theology 
of Germany, as it has been, and as it was, and 
the healthful spirit which promised well for its 
future, all took form and feature in the mind 
of Dr. Pusey. 

Returning to England* in 1827, Dr. Pusey 
gave to the world his " Historical Enquiry into 
the probable Causes of the Rationalistic Cha- 
racter, lately predominant in the Theology of 
Germany ;" prefixing to it a highly-interesting 
letter from Charles Henry Locke, Professor of 
Theology, and minister of the Evangelical 
Church at Bonn. To this volume, itself a 



306 KEY. DR, PUSEY. 

valuable chart to those who traverse the ocean 
of the German mind as exhibited in its theology 
— as well as to a succeeding one, he who, at 
some future time may attempt a history of the 
mind of Dr. Pusey, must resort, as affording 
the best and almost the only means of gaining 
an insight to its workings and tendencies. As 
the volumes are not generally accessible, and 
as the subject is on many accounts, both 
of present and permanent interest, we shall 
assume that an extract or two, exhibiting Dr. 
Pusey as he was, in contrast to what he is^ 
will be acceptable. The first cause to which 
Dr. Pusey attributes the past and existing un- 
favourable characteristic of the German Church 
is, " The want of its full and permanent de- 
velopement in the spirit in which its great 
instrument, Luther, might have completed 
it ;" the full expansion of Luther's views being 
prevented by " the important practical 
employment, to which this great Apostle of 
Evangelical truth dedicated the most of his 
exertions? The great and essential quali- 
fication of Luther, as a Church Eeformer, has 
never been more clearly set forth than by 
Dr. Pusey. Luther saw the monstrous abuses 
of the Papal system, and abhorred the great 



eev. dr. pusir. 307 

traffic in indulgences, and the trading in the 
souls of men : but it was the crying wants of 
its spiritual nature that the Romanist could 
not supply, which pre-eminently fitted him to 
be " the great instrument" of tha Reformation. 
Thus Dr. Pusey tells us, with a fine discri- 
mination, that — 

" The fruitless attempts to satisfy an uneasy 
and active conscience, by the meritorious 
performances of a Romish convent, had opened 
his eyes to a right understanding of the Scrip- 
tures, in ichose doctrine alone it could find rest ; 
and the clear and discerning faith which this 
correspondence of Scripture with his own 
experience strengthened in him, gave him that 
instinctive insight into the nature of Chris- 
tianity which enabled him, for the most part, 
unfailingly to discriminate beticeen essentials 
and non-essentials, and raised him not only 
above the assumed authority of the church, and 
above the might of tradition, but above the 
influence of hereditary scholastic opinions, the 
power of prejudices, and the dominion of the 
letter." 

Here is a sentence worthy not only to be 
written in letters of gold, but to be held in 
everlasting remembrance. Strange, passing 



80S REV. DR. PUSEY. 

strange, and most lamentable, that he who 
once wrote thus, should now himself lie pros- 
trate before the inventions which Luther is 
described as escaping by the might of Scripture, 
and as impelled by the deep-felt wants of his 
own heaven-illumined mind ! 

The same spirit animates the truthfully 
touched historical sketch of the period imme- 
diately following that of the labours of Luther: 
the description, it will be observed, applies 
almost equally to the corresponding period of 
the history of the Reformation in England and 
Scotland : — 

• " His successors, in developing to the utmost, 
subordinate but contested points of Jhis system, 
neglected the great view T s wdiich lay beyond the 
sphere of their polemics. Few, comparatively, 
in the large mass of the active agents in the 
Reformation, were led to the rejection of the 
errors of the Church of Rome through the 
same school of experience by which the master 
mover had been conducted. Many had been 
merely theoretically convinced of its errors, 
others sought a freedom from intellectual 
tyranny, others political advantages, some 
finally followed, but half consciously, the 
mighty impulse. The number of the noble 



REV. DR. PUSEY. 30.9 

band who were actuated by the same spirit 
which impelled Luther, was diminished, and 
their agency disturbed by the troubles of the 
times ; by which Melancthon and Ohytrseus 
became for some time wanderers in Germany ; 
Bucer acquired among ourselves a new scene 
of evangelical exertion. 

Reading sentiments so just and admirable as 
these, the question will arise — Can it be really 
true that they once fell from the pen of Dr. 
Pusey ? It is even so ; and such extracts might 
be multiplied, but we must be content with 
what we have already taken from his early book. 

Such was Dr. or rather Mr. Pusey, the 
Fellow of Oriel College, and the student in 
Germany, pursuing inquiries into the character 
of its theology, living in the past, with the 
great instrument of the Eeformation and the 
noble band of his associates ; living with 
Spener, who would fain have created " a soul 
under the ribs of death ;" living too, in friend- 
ship with Tholuck, and rejoicing to see 
Rationalism retiring before the power, the 
warmth, the glow, of a learned, devout, enlight- 
ened theology, springing up fresh from the 
ever-flowing, but too often neglected, living 
fountains of waters. 



310 REV. DR. PUSEY. 



We have related a little of Dr. Puseys 
history. We must now introduce the reader 
to the man himself, that he may have a pen- 
daguerreotype of the personal appearance of the 
" head of his order."" 

Some time since we were paying a visit to 
the ancient city of Bristol — the place where 
the great Oanynge ruled several times as 
Mayor — that Oanynge who built St. Mary 
Redcliff Church, "the Pride of Bristowe and 
the Westerne londe" — the place where Chatter- 
ton planned and wrote the Poems of Rowley— 
the city which built a monument to that same 
" marvellous boy," and the residence of him 
who, in a fit of insane bigotry, had it pulled 
down shortly after its erection — the city which 
gave birth to Robert Southey, Sir Thomas 
Lawrence, and the " Game Chicken !" — the 
city, too, in whose prison died Richard Savage ; 
and which, in the last place, has been 
characterised by Coleridge, who lived there 
some time, as "a place which has produced 
many men of genius, but never sustained one." 
Well, in this city we were located when we 



REV. DR. PUSEY. 311 

heard a report that Dr, Pusey was to pr ach 
on the following Sunday morning at St. 
James's Church — one of the oldest ecclesiastical 
structures of Bristol. 

We, of course, being hunters of oddities, 
determined to go and see this singular man. 
But our hopes were shaken by a report, which 
for once proved that " Common Bumour" is 
not always a common liar, that the Bishop of 
the diocese had notified to the Reverend J. H, 
Woodward, the incumbent of the parish, his 
desire that the doctor should not officiate. 
But it came out in a side-winded sort of way, 
that the vicar intended to snap his fingers at 
the bishop, and allow the " bone of contention" 
to enter his pulpit. At the time appointed, 
therefore, we mingled with the curious crowds 
who were squeezing into the church, and 
luckily got a seat. 

Shade of Thomas Tregenna Biddulph ! — 
(the former good and venerable minister of this 
church) — we mentally ejaculated, as we looked 
on the departed vicar's monument — what 
would'st thou say didst thou know that one 
who is striving to dim the purity of those 
simple truths which thou didst preach here for 
so many years, is about to occupy the place 



312 REV. DR. TUSEY. 

where thy solemn face, and dignified form, 
was so often seen. Verily, it is enough to 
make thy bones stir in the vault beneath. But 
vain the idea! Where thy "better portion" 
is, nothing can ruffle thy emancipated spirit, 
or dim with a tear thine unsealed eye ! 

The Rev. Mr. Woodward — successor to the 
good man whom we have just apostrophised — 
reads the service. He is a proud, pompous- 
looking man, with a florid face, and a fat frame. 
Were I on my dying bed. I should not like 
such a one to be my spiritual guide — but, per- 
haps. I may be told by some, that I am un- 
charitable. — Wait a little time, reader, and I 
fancy you will be of the same opinion as my- 
self. 

The psalm before the sermon is being sung, 
as on the winding pulpit stairs appears a 
minister, attired in a surplice : some of the 
congregation — the old-fashioned sort — look 
vexed at this innovation, but curiosity dispels 
anger, and perfect stillness reigns as soon as 
the tones of the organ die away, and the lion 
of the hour rises to commence his discourse. 

What ! can that be the great Doctor Posey 
— that little man, so frail-looking that one 
would think a very moderate gust of air might 



REV, DR. PUSEY. 313 

puff him out of the pulpit — and who appears 
almost transparent ! — that he, who has set 
the whole English Church in a ferment, and 
startled Evangelical Christendom from its pro- 
priety ? Even so — yonder is the founder of 
Puseyism — the Arch-Disturber of Protestantism 
itself. 

Yet, what a striking figure it appears when, 
with a thoughtful eye, you look closely at, and 
investigate it ! The body is small — almost 
insignificant-looking ; the shoulders are bent— 
the chest narrow — the hands thin and long- 
fingered, like those of a consumptive patient. 
But after all, the head and face are the point 
of attraction. 

The hair is thin, and like that of most 
studious men, thinly streaked with grey, — It 
will soon be grey altogether. High and ample 
is the forehead, and furrowed with perpendicular 
and transverse lines. And the nose — what a 
long-beaked organ it is ! its bridge crossed by 
the connecting wire of a pair of large spec- 
tacles, which effectually prevent the eyes from 
being seen — but, from the large projecting eye- 
brows, we feel sure that they are deeply-set, 
and keen. As to the mouth — it is thin-lipped 
— these lips being bloodless. The chin is long 
and pointed. 



314 rev. dr. rirsEY. 

And over all those features is stretched a 
parchment-coloured skin, which, on the bridge 
of the nose seems so tight, that one fears the 
nasal bones may cut through it. Round the 
angles of the mouth it is puckered into folds. 
The expression of the features altogether is 
sad, severe, and gloomy. One would take the 
doctor, did one meet him in a dim cloister, for 
something between a mummv and an ascetic 
hermit of a cave. 

In a low. querulous voice. Dr. Pusey com- 
menced his sermon, reading every word of it. 
It was lifeless — almost tedious — and disap- 
pointed me greatly. There was no animation 
i — no fire — no cessation of dullness, in fact ; 
and little impression did it make, if I might 
judge of the whispers, when it was over. — of 
* ; Goodness ! what a dry sermon !" — w Well, I 
never !"* — and such like deprecatory ejaculations. 
For my own part. I felt no more edified than 
if I had gone into the crypt of Redcliff, and 
looked for a quarter of an hour (the time Dr. 
Pusey's sermon lasted) on the statue of 
Chatterton, which the vacillating vicar of that 
church has caused to be placed amongst the 
rubbish there (as I have already hinted), and 
perhaps not so much ; for I know there are 



KEV. DR. PUSEY. 315 

more eloquent sermons to be found in stones, 
than the one the doctor delivered — consisting, 
although it did, of learned quotations from the 
" Fathers ;"" for the latter were quite as dry as 
he who quoted them. 

But a few months have passed, since Dr. 
Pusey preached in St. James's Church, and 
the fruit which had been growing before has 
ripened. The Rev. Mr. Woodward, the vicar 
of the church, has retired from it, and joined 
the Church of Rome. 

Since writing the above, a document in the 
shape of " A Postcript to the Letter to the 
Rev. W, A. Richards, in vindication of the 
freedom which the Church of England leaves 
to her children to whom to open their griefs," 
by Dr. Pusey, has fallen into my hands. From 
it, it appears, that the doctor has received con- 
fessions in no less than four dioceses — that he 
has travelled great distances in order to receive 
them — and that he has been in the habit of 
exercising his self-assumed power as a confessor, 
for the space of at least twelve years. He 
alleges that these confessions are in each case 
quite voluntary : and the end sought is not 
mere "guidance" and " spiritual discipline," 
but the quieting of the conscience," and abso- 



316 REV. DR. PUSEY. 

lution. Yet, in another page, be speaks of 
confession being useful in tbe prevention of sin, 
modestly hinting that suspicion against the 
practice is " sowed by the Father of Lies 
himself, in order to keep his own kingdom 
undisturbed ." 

With the following timely fable, which 
cannot but remind our readers of Puseyite 
Parsons and Romish Priests, we conclude this 
paper, which has extended beyond the limits 
we had assigned it. 

THE TOADS AND THE TADPOLES. 

" Down in Glamorgan's sunny vale, 
A yeoman farmed — so runs the tale. 
One vernal dawn our yeoman flew 
To watch his hinds, as yeomen do. 
'What's here, my lads ? What's here !' he cries. 
' There in the pond !' a clown replies : 
' Yes, in the cow-pond ; look, boys, look ! 
The water bubbling like a brook. 
Zounds ! it is crammed with toads and frogs, 
Huge as Sir Watkin's finest hogs : 
They'll swarm the land ! away for lime, 
We'd better drug the rogues in time.' 
1 Maister 1' the grinning bumpkin cries, 
Scratching his poll to seem more wise : 
' I hate a toad, as you a hare, 
But no such Terrain flounders there : 



REV. DR. PUSEY. 317 

'Tis only tadpoles thick as hail ; 

Mark their round heads and wriggling tail ! 

To harm such friends can ne'er be wise ; 

They gulp young blight and spawn of flies ; 

So let 'em dance then little day, 

And soon they'll dance their life away.' 

' Tadpoles, you clown !' our yeoman screams, 

1 Why, Taffy, you're a fool, it seems ; 

Tadpoles are little frogs and toads, 

And soon would swarm the glebe in loads ; 

So drench with lime their chubby heads, 

And stop the plague before it spreads.' " 

From Bath Fables, by Sheridan Wilson. 



319 



THE PAPIST AXD THE PUSEYITE. 

CARDINAL WISEMAN, AND THE 
KEY. W. J. E. BENNETT, 

Christmas morning ! For days and days past 
a dull drizzling rain has damped alike the 
spirits and the persons of the out-of-door in- 
habitants of the Great Metropolis : a white, 

searching mist has defied cloaks, comforters, 
and the most repellent of paletots ; and asth- 
matic and bronchial affections have experienced 
an alarming rise. But to-day. as if in honour 

of the great Christian Festival 

•'*' Heaven is clear. 
And all the clouds are zone," 

The sun shines brilliantly, and every thorough- 
fare is thronged with holiday folk, who are 



CARDINAL WISEMAN, 319 

either hurrying from the great Wilderness of 
brick, to breathe a purer air in the open coun- 
try, or soberly walking towards the various 
places of worship whose claims invite them to 
celebrate the birth of Him, 

u WTio eighteen hundred years ago was nailed 
For our advantage, to the bitter cross ;" 

troops of children go merrily by. with visions 
of all imaginary good things floating before 
their delighted gastronomic eyes ; and we, too, 
having abandoned books, and locked our study- 
door for the day, have been seduced by the 
sunshine, and join the joyous crowds without. 
Whither shall we direct our steps ? What 
amusement or edification shall we seek ? As 
we have not unfrequently done, we will trust 
to the chapter of accidents, and 4i take the 
goods the gods provide,'' feeling assured, like 
Wilkins Micawber, in c: David Copperfield," 
that something will "turn up." — And some- 
thing has turned up ; for an old friend hurries 
past us, whom we hail, and we learn that he 
is proceeding to Southwark, to hear Cardinal 
Wiseman preach* Our mind is at once fixed. 
The Cathedral of St. Gfeorge's, Southwark, 
shall be our cardinal point, too ; so, linking 



320 CARDINAL WISEMAN. 

our fin in that of our friend, we pass over that 
Bridge of Bridges — or of Sighs, as poor Hood 
termed it — Waterloo, and, ere twenty minutes 
have elapsed, reach the new Roman Catholic 
Cathedral. Huge and gloomy-looking is the 
exterior of the building, but we cannot stop to 
describe its architectural appearance just now, 
nor indeed have we time so to do ; for many 
hundreds of people, attracted by devotional 
feelings, or by a desire to see the great Romish 
" Lion of London,' 1 are rushing into every door 
of the vast edifice. Buttoning up our coat, 
and firmly fixing our hat on our head, we 
insinuate ourselves into the crowd, and, flowing 
with the human stream, after sundry pushings 
and squeezings, reach the interior. 

It was more like getting into a theatre than 
into a place of religious worship. No com- 
plaisant sextoness is in attendance to show you 
politely to a seat ; no jolly- faced beadle, with 
staff of office, inspires us with feelings of 
reverence ; but, instead, there is a regularly 
constructed ' ' pay-here-and-take-your-tickets" 
sort of place, in which stands a grim-looking, 
mercenary sort of man, with an oddly-shaped 
black cap on his head, and a black serge dress. 
" Three-pence each," demands the functionary ; 



CARDINAL WISEMAN. 321 

and preferring rather to submit to an illegal 
impost, than to resist it under such circum- 
stances, we pay the admission fee, and enter 
the Cathedral, where immediately another 
officer in black rudely pushes us into a place 
where our prospect is bounded by a pillar 
within half-a-dozen feet of our nose, and from 
whence we at once perceive, it will be a 
matter of utter impossibility either to see 
Cardinal Wiseman, or to hear a single word 
which he may utter. 

We were pushing our way further up the 
aisle, when a third gentleman in black, of a 
very sinister aspect, churlishly informed us 
that if we desired a better place, we must pay 
three-pence more. — Our friend a " canny Scot," 
at this fell into a fit of Presbyterian anger, and 
loudly denounced the " swindle," for which he 
was rewarded by the official with a look worthy 
of the Grand Inquisitor himself; and we have 
not the slightest doubt, that, had it been in 
the power of the said official, he would have 
roasted my friend as an incorrigible heretic, and 
perhaps have included his companion in the 
auto da fe. Thank goodness, however, the 
"infallible" Church does not, as yet, possess 
such infernal power in England, and so we are 
providentially spared to pen this record. 



6T1 CARDINAL WISEMAX. 

The additional three-pence was paid, how- 
ever, and we were conducted to a seat a little 
nearer the pulpit, but exactly behind it, so that 
we were nearly as badly off, as it regarded 
sight and hearing, as before. Again we sought 
to improve our position, and again were met 
by a further demand of sixpence this time. 
which, to save altercation, we paid, and then, 
and not till then, we were satisfied, and sat 
down opposite the pulpit. 

An immense place is the Eoman Catholic 
Cathedral of St. George. It consists of a 
centre and two side aisles, the latter divided 
from the former by pillars, which support a 
lofty roof. The organ in the gallery is a 
shabby-looking affair ; but its baldness and 
grimness are amply compensated by the high 
altar which faces it at the other end of the 
Cathedral. This high altar itself is a magnifi- 
cent-looking affair, all blazing with purple and 
gold, and tissue, and trumpery ; and. when 
lighted up by hundreds of wax-tapers, the effect 
is most imposing. A Eoodloft and screen 
separates it from the body of the Cathedral, the 
former being surmounted by a superbly-carved 
cross, on which hangs a painted effigy, repre- 
senting our Saviour in his last agony, with the 



CARDINAL WISEMAX. 323 

two Marys kneeling on either side. Gorgeous 
banners hung on the exterior of the screen, and 
on either side of the altar were two chapels, 
one dedicated to St. George, and the other 
to the Virgin Mary ; a splendidly-coloured 
statue of the latter, with the infant Jesus, 
being placed on a bracket without, and 
a silver lamp burned before the effigies. — These 
two chapels were, like the altar, so splendidly 
decorated, that it actually fatigued the eye, 
which rested but a few moments on their 
auriferous and purple splendours. On the wall 
of the Cathedral hung various portraits of 
saints ; — grim and dismal old gentlemen, and 
pale, woe-begone ladies, who most assuredly 
did not operate on our mind as ci persuasives to 
piety*'' of the Roman Catholic sort, for a more 
intensely miserable looking set of sinners we 
never beheld. Is it any wonder, then, that like 
Byron's hero, we 

" turned from grisly saints and martyrs hairy 
To the sweet portraits of the Virgin Mary." 

which were suspended from various parts of the 
edifice ? 

Thus we employed our time, until a bell, 
which was hung over a little door on one side 



324 CARDINAL WISEMAN. 

of the building, close to the chapel of the 
Virgin, sounded, intimating that the service 
was about to commence. The door opened, 
and the organ commenced pealing forth its 
harmonious thunder, as a procession emerged 
from a private chapel. 

It was headed by a beadle, with a severe look, 
and a very red nose, bearing a silver headed 
mace ; after him were acolytes, carrying enor- 
mous lighted tapers ; then came about forty 
little boys, clad in white robes, their hands 
reverently folded palm to palm, and their eyes 
directed upward. The faces of some of these 
children were very beautiful ; the dew of youth 
rested on their brows, and they had not as yet 
been beclouded by the chilling mysteries of the 
religion of Rome : dissimulation had not as vet 
banished innocence, for the poor little fellows 
doubtless believed all true that their ghostly 
instructors had told them. Following these, 
walked the richly-attired deacons, also with 
folded palms and uplifted eyes. Then came 
about a dozen ecclesiastics of different orders ; 
and lastly, there emerged, from the door of the 
private chapel, the object of universal curiosity 
— His Eminence, the Cardinal Archbishop of 
Westminster, 



CARDINAL WI3EMAX. 525 

Slowly, and with an air which some might 
mistake for dignity, and which it is very possible 
was meant to express it, came forth the prime 
Emissary of the Vatican, Before him was one 
official, bearing a lofty triple cross, and another 
carrying a silver gilt crosier ; and on either side 
of the prelate walked two priests, in amber- 
coloured robes, richly broidered with gold, sup- 
porting his train. — With tall and robust form, 
towering above these, appeared Cardinal Wise- 
man. He was magnificently dressed. On his 
head pressed a mitre, glittering with gold and 
jewels ; a robe, also of amber-colour, profusely 
decorated with gold embroidery, and on the 
back emblazoned with a gorgeously-wrought 
cross, enveloped his portly frame ; and from 
beneath it appeared trowsers (profanely so to 
speak) of white satin, glittering with gold 
spangles, and white shoes, also embroidered 
with gold. His hands were encased in white 
gloves, splendidly braided, and over these were 
rings, of dazzling lustre, — but conspicuous 
among them was the episcopal signet, which 
appeared black and dull among its brilliant 
companions, like the dark Church of which it 
was a symbol, when compared with that of a 



326 CARDINAL WISEMAN. 

simpler, but a far purer and more resplendent 
faith. 

" Shade of Wolsey !" we mentally ejaculated, 
as we gazed on the new Cardinal, and involun- 
tarily contrasted him with our pre-conceived 
ideas of the personal appearance of the magni- 
ficent Prelate of Hampton Court— " can he 
upon whom we now gaze be the man who has 
set Protestant England at defiance ? Is that 
coarse and vulgar-looking individual the head of 
the Catholic Church in England !" The uni- 
versal homage which was paid to him, as he 
slowly paced the aisles of St. George, furnished 
us with an affirmative reply. 

Kohl, the celebrated traveller, in a work 
which was published some few years since, 
descriptive of his travels in England, says, 
when describing Dr. Wiseman's personal appear- 
ance, that his features appeared to have been 
u combed out;' these, or words to that effect, are 
used by the author named. This description, 
however, is too vague. Let us try our hands 
at a sketch. 

The face of Cardinal Wiseman is not unlike, 
in breadth, that of the late Daniel O'Connell ; 
and those who have seen portraits of the latter 
personage, — and who has not?- — may therefore 



CARDINAL WISEMAN. 327 

form a tolerably correct idea of the massiveness 
and squareness of the countenance of our 
Catholic friend. But there the similarity ends. 
Dr. Wiseman's head is large, and covered with 
iron-grey hair, carelessly disposed; his forehead 
is low, but broad, and bounded inferiorly by two 
large dark eyebrows, beneath which are a pair 
of grey eyes, whose furtive expression cannot be 
described. These are shaded by a pair of 
spectacles which rest on a short nose, rather 
knobbed at the end. The mouth is very 
peculiar. Cunning, sarcasm, and duplicity, are 
stamped as plainly on that feature, as public 
indignation is upon its owner's presumption. 
A fat double chin, and ;i plobby" whiskerless 
cheeks, of a swarthy complexion, complete our 
portrait, so far as the face goes ; but, reader, 
add to this a pair of broad shoulders — a brawny 
chest, and an Aldermanic abdomen, and you 
have a fair idea of Cardinal Wiseman. 

Xever saw we, and we have looked upon 
many eminent men in our time, a face so little 
indicative of great learning as that which be- 
longs to Dr. Wiseman. There is a sensual 
expression upon it, and an assumption of 
humility which no acute observer would mis- 
take for an evidence of the genuine virtue. In 



328 CARDINAL WISEMAN. 

short it is a vulgar physiognomy ; sensuality 
and sagacity being its predominant expressions. 

On goes the procession round the Cathedral, 
the Cardinal, with downcast eyes, slowly pacing 
the aisles, one hand resting on his prominent 
stomach, (not diminished by fasting in the 
least) and the other gently waving to and fro, 
as his thick lips move whilst he mutters a 
benediction. At length the altar is reached, 
and with great ceremony the Cardinal is con- 
ducted to his throne, when his mitre is 
exchanged for a scarlet cap, and the service 
commences. 

But the " mummeries of superstition," such 
as the genuflexions, the unrobings, the bowings 
and the like, incident to this part of the pro- 
ceedings, we will not attempt to describe. 
Imagine therefore, reader, that Cardinal Wise* 
man has had his mitre placed and replaced a 
dozen times at the least ; that clouds of incense 
have issued from silver censers, and floated in 
thin blue wreaths through the Cathedral, and 
now enshroud the saints who are worshipped, 
and the sinners who worship ; and the Virgin 
and Child, and the banners and the other 
insignia in an odorous haze : that the splendidly 
attired priests have retired from the altar ; that 



CARDINAL WISEMAN. 329 

the organ no more sounds forth its dulcet 
diapasons ; and that the rich voice of the 
" professional" choir have c; died into an echo." 
We say, fancy all this ; and now behold 
another procession issue forth from between the 
gilded gates of the High Altar. The satellites 
of the Cardinal are escorting him to the pulpit. 

At the foot of the pulpit stairs the procession 
halts, and between two rows of ecclesiastics 
and choristers, the great man ascends to the 
sacred place. Two priests only attend him to 
bear his train, and these enter the pulpit 
with him and occupy places behind him. 
One of these takes the gilt crosier from the 
Cardinal's hand, and upholds the emblem of 
mock authority. And now all are on the qui 
The : a display of eloquence is looked for, for 
surely so great a dignitary as a Cardinal must 
do something a little t; out of the common." 
But listen, the preacher commences. 

His voice is coarse and vulgar, dry, harsh, 
and unmelodious. " Peace on earth and good 
will to all men" is the text ; what a text for the 
great religious peace-breaker himself to dis- 
course from ! As he proceeds, we anxiously 
listen in the hope of catching some new idea, 
or some original remarks. But vain the effort ! 
2 T 



o80 CARDINAL WISEMAN. 

Common-place remarks, delivered in a com- 
mon-place manner, combined with a certain 
unctuousness of phrassology is all that we hear. 
Very little action is used by the Cardinal ; his 
gestures are confined to some slow wavings of his 
hands which display his jewel-studded fingers 
to the staring multitude. His body appears 
immoveable, so does his head, as though he 
was fearful of rumpling his robes, or of letting 
the mitre fall from his brow, before the time 
appointed for its removal by the strong arm of 
English law. And so he goes on stringing 
sophisms, truisms, and Romanisms together, 
until about twenty minutes have been wasted, 
and then, with pompous step, and face flushed 
with prelatic pride, he descends the pulpit 
stairs escorted as before, and proceeds to the 
space in front of the altar, where a priest hav- 
ing ingeniously converted himself for his con- 
venience into a reading desk, by kneeling and 
supporting a large missal on his hands and 
head, he reads or intones a few prayers, and 
then retires within the screen to the Altar's 
foot, where we will leave him. 

To deny that Cardinal Wiseman is a man of 
profound learning, and of great sagacity, would 
be about as absurd as the assertion of a certain 



CARDINAL WISEMAN. 331 

Roman Catholic Ecclesiastic in one of his 
educational works, that the hitherto-believed- 
in systems of some of our great astronomers 
are mere fictions, and that in truth the sun is 
a simple disc of only a few yards in diameter ! 
Eloquent the cardinal may not be, and in fact 
is not, but it should ever be remembered that 
the Roman Catholic Church depends more for 
its success upon private teaching than upon 
public preaching. The cardinal has given us 
a pretty fair sample of what he can do in the 
way of religious intrigue, for it is acknowledged 
by all, that to his counsels, and not to any 
original idea of Pius the Ninth, we are in- 
debted for the attempted re-establishment of the 
Papal Hierarchy in England. The man who 
would commit so daring an act, would not be 
likely to be over scrupulous in other matters, 
nor might he omit laying his " appropriation 
claws" on any thing which would benefit his 
church. Scorning, as we do, his pretensions, 
it may perhaps be well to remember that he 
is one of Rome's ablest and subtlest sons ; 
that he is ambitious of power, and unscru- 
pulous as to the means of obtaining it ; and 
that as such, his influence and abilities should 
not be too lightly estimated. 



332 REV. W. J. E. BEXXETT. 

As a pendant to the above sketch, we may 
not inappropriately in this place, present our 
readers with a sketch of one who has. in his 
sphere, caused little less excitement than Car- 
dinal Wiseman himself. From the Catholic 
Cathedral to the the Church of the Puseyite is 
but a step ; let us take it. 

Who is not acquainted with that part of the 
metropolis styled Pimlico \ That portion of 
the Marquis of Westminster's estate, on which, 
within the last few years, has sprung up a 
neighbourhood whose squares are tenanted 
by the creme de la creme of society, and whose 
streets are rows of palaces. Belgravia is the 
metropolis of the metropolis of fashion ; and 
thither must we now repair. 

A very little distance from Belgrave Square, 
and almost in Chelsea, rises a strange-looking, 
ecclesiastical building. It partakes of the 
twofold character of church and monastery; 
the spire suggesting the idea of the former ; 
the gloomy, small-windowed buildings adjoining 
it, the notion of the latter. The very stones, 
of which the mongrel building is composed, 
have sermons in them for thoughtful Protestant 
minds. All day long, almost, from half-past six 
in the morning until eight at night, a monastic- 



REV. W. J. E. BENNETT. 333 

sounding bell annoys the neighbours, and 
attracts a certain class of worshippers. There 
are no pleasant " church-going" bells chiming 
sweetlv. but an everlasting ding-dong, mono- 
tonous beyond measure, and calculated to throw 
a damp even on a funeral. So much for the 
exterior. 

Having heard much of the "doings* 1 at St. 
Barnabas (such is the church's name), we 
proceeded thither to see and hear for ourselves. 
It was nearly seven o'clock when we reached 
the building, around whose door was a great 
concourse of people, about sixty policemen, 
with drawn staves, being interspersed among 
the crowd. At seven the doors opened, and 
a rush, as to the pit of a theatre on the first 
night of a new play, ensued. Fortunately, we 
made good our entry, and secured a place in the 
body of the church. 

If the outside of the building was sombre, 
almost to sadness, the interior was brilliant, 
even to the dazzling point. Going suddenly 
into it from the darkness without, was like 
passing from the gloom of a cavern to a splen- 
didly-illuminated hall. High over-head was 
an oak-ribbed roof, supported by pillars, each of 
a different character, and connected by arches. 



S3i REV. W. J. E. BENNETT. 

around which, in variously-coloured mediaeval 
characters, were texts of Scripture, in Latin. 
There were side-aisles, also, with ribbed roofs, 
decorated with purple and crimson. The altar 
was separated from the body of the church by 
a magnificent screen, over which rose an oaken 
cross of large proportions ; and above this 
again, over the crown of the arch, connecting 
the two aisles, was a gaudily-coloured painting 
of our Saviour. Gilded or brazen gates inter- 
posed between the congregation and the altar- 
table, on the gorgeous cloth of which was rich 
embroidery, and on the altar itself was another 
large crucifix ; this latter being most elaborately 
carved and gilded. Above the screened-off 
place, and a little below the upper part of the 
rood-loft, was a circle of lights, proceeding from 
a splendid chandelier ; but it seemed that this 
did not afford light sufficient, for just before the 
service commenced, an official lighted two very 
tall, and twelve lesser candles. We could add 
that the men and women were placed on 
separate sides of the church, and that pew- 
attendants, (not openers, for there were no 
doors,) clothed in exactly such robes as those 
worn by similar functionaries in Romish 
chapels on the Continent, flitted about in all 



REV. W. J. K. BENNETT. 33-5 

directions. There wanted little beside a holy- 
water font to make the place completely a 
Papistical building. 

At half-past seven o'clock the bell ceased, 
and a minister, with a small velvet cap on his 
head, commenced the service, his prayer-book 
resting on the extended wings of a brazen 
eagle. The service was intoned, and very 
badly intoned too. The Anthems were sung 
by choristers within the screens ; the organ 
was invisible. At length, the prayers were 
over, and the preacher of the evening made his 
appearance in the stone pulpit. 

" There's Pope Bennett," said some one 
behind us. We looked round; a very irascible 
old gentleman was gazing with angry grimaces 
at the pulpit occupant. We omitted to add 
that, prior to this, whenever either clergyman 
or other official passed the crucifix, a genuflexion 
was performed with great apparent devoutness* 
The preacher was the Mr. Bennett who has of 
late created such a sensation. He was attired 
in a surplice, and, without the accustomed 
prayer, he commenced his discourse. Dull as 
it was, it was listened to with almost breathless 
attention, by a congregation consisting of mem- 
bers of almost every denomination of Christians. 



Job REV. \V. J. E. BENNETT. 

But first, let us describe Mr. Bennett's personal 
appearance, at least, his face, for that was the 
only part of him visible. Those who have 
seen PickersgilTs portrait of the late William 
Wordsworth, may form seme idea of Mr. 
Bennett's countenance. The head was ex- 
tremely fine, the forehead broad and high, 
the broadest portion being at its upper part. 
The eyes were large, grey, and expressive, and 
the nose long. The mouth well shaped and 
rather large : the chin long and pointed ; so 
that it w T ill be seen the face described an 
elongated oval. Its expression was grave al- 
most to gloom, just such an expression as one 
might fancy a Father Confessor to wear when 
rebuking a penitent. Mr. Bennett's voice was 
deep, sonorous, and distinct, but with little 
modulation. His style was sententious and far 
from brilliant, though, doubtless, impressive to 
those who were of his party. Very little action 
was used, and he adhered closely to his notes. 
We should have thought him the last man in 
the world to attract a large audience. The 
discourse was a dead level : nothing to excite, 
nothing to startle, and the jmdience seemed dis- 
appointed at this. As a whole, it was about the 
most uninteresting discourse, we think, we have- 
ever listened to. 



REV. W. J. E. BENNETT. 337 

There was some slight disturbance, but, as 
it is not our purpose here to record such 
matters, we will take our leave of St. Barnabas, 
with its wax lights, and its pictures, and it 
semi-Popish ceremonials. 



Since writing the above, Mr, Bennett has 
resigned his curacy, and the Bishop of London 
has refused the request of many of his 
parishioners to reinstate him. Nevertheless 
the Puseyite work "goes bravely on" within 
the walls of St. Barnabas, the only difference 
perceivable between the ceremonials above 
described, and those now observed, being the 
non-lighting of candles ! 



[Since the above sketeh was written, the reverend gentle- 
man has found a resting place at.Frome — not Rome, where 
many persons supposed he would sit down.] 



338 



FATHER GAVAZZI. 

We have, iu the preceding pages, sketched 
eminent English Preachers. It was our inten- 
tion to hare confined ourselves exclusively to 
such ; but the great popularity which has 
been acquired by the individual whose name 
heads this article, induces us to make an 
exception in his case. 

Travel with us, reader, to the Princess's 
Concert Hall, for in that spacious and splendid 
apartment a Monk is about to lecture on the 
abuses of the Roman Catholic Church. Light 
is about to be emitted from a dark church 
lanthorn ! 4i The Canon Law and Papal 
Usurpations w is to be the subject of the 
oration. 

Look at that swarthy man on the platform : 
mark his splendid eyes — his magnificent fore- 



FATHER GAVAZZI. 339 

head; his fine figure, half concealed in monkish 
habiliments ; and listen to his superb voice. 
The Concert Room is crowded ; for the un- 
usual concourse of exiles and patriots has 
received a graceful embellishment in the pre- 
sence of ladies, attracted not less by the 
sympathy for brave men, than by the exquisite 
beauty of Italy's language, set forth by the 
splendid delivery of the speaker. Members of 
the House of Commons muster in great force. — 
The enthusiasm which for two hours pervaded 
the assembly, and which the vigorous declama- 
tion of the orator never suffered to flag for a 
moment, found frequent utterance in the most 
clamorous explosions of applause. It would 
require a regular staff of short-hand men to 
give a speech of Father Gavazzi's ; for the 
eloquence of the Monk is of a higher order 
than what the " gallery men" of the House 
of Commons — or of Lords either — have to 
deal with. 

Father Gavazzi commenced his address with 
a sketch of the humble attitude of the Roman 
Bishops under the Roman Emperors, when 
Felix, Victor, and Leo wore their modest 
mitres, and Iraenseus vied with Tertullian in 
glorifying the exemplary docility of contem- 



340 FATHER GAVAZZI. 

porary Christians, under the rule of the tem- 
poral authorities. 

Thus eloquently spoke Father Gavazzi : — 
"Even the imperial mandates, by which mul- 
titudes of monks were enrolled as soldiers, and 
sent to guard the frontier against barbarian 
inroads, met with faint murmurs, but full 
submission. The public interests were para- 
mount. The Church w T as a community within 
the general control of the state, and was nothing 
more ; but the Enemy of Mankind tried on the 
mystic body of Christ the experiment which 
had failed so signal in the desert. The tempter 
came over the Alps w T ith the Gallic Pepin ; he 
shewed from a pinnacle of earthly power and 
aggrandisement the kingdoms of this world, 
and pledged himself to secure their homage, if, 
falling prostrate before God's adversary, 
" Christ's Vicar" should adore him. The 
sacrilegious bargain was struck : the ark of the 
Lord was placed in the temple of Dagon ; the 
Bishops of Rome, who had over and over again 
suffered death sooner than offer incense to 
Pagan idols, fell into the palpable snare of 
Satan ; and the hand that bore on its finger 
the brightest of sacerdotal gems in the " ring 
of the fisherman," was outstretched with scan- 



FATHER GAVAZZ1. 341 

dalous avidity to burn a fatal frankincense on 
the altar of secular ambition. A visible change 
fell on the papacy. The gory crown of martyr- 
dom was exchanged for the glittering tiara. 
Swelling with the pride and pomp of Satanic 
inflation, Boniface the Eighth, having foully 
dethroned his still-living predecessor, Oelestine 
the Fifth, burst on the world with his blas- 
phemous bull, " Unam Sanctum," and laid 
his monstrous mandate on mankind, involving 
the human race in sacerdotal serfdom. By one 
fell swoop, he abrogated the authority of kings 
within their dominions, of magistrates within 
the circle of their attributions, of fathers with- 
in the circle of their household. Popes became 
the arbiters of universal sovereignty, bishops 
bearded monarchs, and priests lorded it over 
the domestic hearth. — Legislation quailed 
before the new T -born code of clerical command, 
which, in the slang of the dark ages, was 
called canon law. The arbitrary compound of 
fraud and forgery assumed the title of decretals, 
and was first compiled by Isidorus Mercator, 
enlarged by Anselmus of Lucca, and finally 
licked into shape by a Bolognese monk, Gratian, 
whose name it henceforth bore, and whom I, 
as a citizen of Bologna, devote to the merited 



342 FATHEH GAYAZZI. 

execration of Europe. The principle which 
pollutes every page of this nefarious imposture 
is, that every human right, claim, property, 
franchise, or feeling, at variance with the pre- 
dominance of the Popedom, was, ipso facto, 
inimical to heaven, and the God of Eternal Jus- 
tice. In virtue of this preposterous preroga- 
tive, universal manhood became a priest's foot- 
stool, this planet a huge game preserve for the 
pope's individual shooting. The finger of Borgia, 
fresh from the poison-cup, could trace a meridian 
on the globe, and partition America between 
the rival bribery of Portugal and Spain ; nor 
was it only the untutored Indian who was 
thus handed over to slavery and slaughter, but 
in the midst of European monarchies the same 
insolent principle was haughtily asserted. The 
adversary of the temporal tiara was cursed in 
all the maledictory moods of the Vatican's 
virulent vocabulary. The Almighty Euler of 
the universe was dragged into ignoble copartner- 
ship with the besotted administration of a 
paltry principality; disgust at its brutal mis- 
government, hostility to its hideous misrule, 
honest antagonism to its abhorred tyranny, is 
ranged among the category of crimes ; you gal- 
lant men who throng this hall are the criminals 



FATHER GAVAZZI, 343 

of canon law ; you dared to have a country — 
(cheers) — kindred, home and native land ; you 
dared to dream of the damnable delusions, for- 
getting canon law. Do I not glory in being 
your co-transgressor ? Does not the mother 
who bore me in the bosom of Bologna bless 
God for her exiled son — bless God that she 
gave birth to no renegade from Italy, no ac- 
complice or approver in her degradation, no 
sacerdotal trader in her downfall, no priestly 
slanderer grown bloated on her wrongs," 

Here is a pretty picture of Priestcraft given 
by a Priest : — 

" It is not merely at the bedside of the dying 
that clerical meddlers come to curse or to 8 con- 
vey.' It is not merely in public politics they 
presume, but intrude into the household busi- 
ness of every-day life, and invade the privacy 
of every man's home with loathsome and 
pestilent pertinacity. They will dictate to a 
father of a family what school he is to select 
for his sons, and quote canon law T for the infrac- 
tion of the simplest laws of human society and 
of God, the common Father of all and founder 
of the sacred rights of paternity. What else 
is this canon law but an attempt to invalidate 
all human legislation, and to confound Chris- 



344 FATHER GAVAZZI. 

tianity, in its relation to secular communities, 
with the exploded and superseded theocracy of 
the Jews ? Are not the doctrines of Christ 
compatible, in the view of the Divine Redeemer, 
with every form of government ; is not that 
the essence and boast of catholicity ? Whence, 
then, is the Vatican at war with every free 
country, w r ith Belgium, with Sardinia, with 
England? At peace with the despotisms of 
Kaiser and the Czar? Catholic Poland is 
manacled by the encylics of old Gregory, and 
ruthlessly delivered up to his brother Pope of 
Petersburgh , while to the Kaiser our owti 
heavenly land is offered in holacaust of trea- 
cherous and ignominious homage to papal 
felony. Truly canon law reigns at Rome : a 
model land for prize legislation ; where Terror 
walks the streets, and the spy lurks at every 
key-hole ; where social intercourse is a snare, 
and the domestic outbosomings of the family 
circle so much grist for the mill of the 
confessional ; where the greetings in the 
market-place are noted down by the noonday 
devils of the police, and the shafts of 
venomed denunciation are shot at random in 
every man's pathway ; the luxury of hidden woe, 
an indulgence of the deepest dye, and a clan- 



FATHER GAVAZZI. 345 

destine press, the only outlet of the national 
despair. One channel alone was open for the 
energies of the country to find issue ; the public 
robber was abroad ; the brigand like the owl of 
Sultan Mahamoud, blessed the clerical govern- 
ment for unDrotected villages and the utter 
dissolution of society. The banded plunderers 
of Passatore have established a formidable 
competition with the sacerdotal peculators of 
the capital, and set up a rival canon law 
equally disastrous, but not more at variance 
with the rights and immunities of the public. 
For, after all, what consolation is it to the 
dispossessed and defrauded citizens, that the 
brigand who makes free with their chattels 
and personal liberty wears a head-gear of 
conical shape, with a jaunty feather, and 
perhaps an image of the winking Madonna, 
for luck, or robs and plunders in a hat shaped 
like a bee-hive, with a cross on the top of it, 
and calls it a tiara. A pair of apostolic keys 
thrust under the nose of the victim are found 
quite as efficacious as a brace of pistols to make 
folks stand and deliver. What matters it that 
the bands of Passatore are only native outlaws, 
driven to the sad trade of robbery by the for- 
cible stoppage of every honest industry, and 
u 2 



346 FATHER GAVAZZT. 

the crushing and withering effects of priestly 
dominion : while the bands which the other 
brigand has brought to act on the country, are 
transalpine violators of international law, and 
regimented aliens who rob in uniform? The 
French gang, with the gallantry of their nation, 
are content to work as amateurs, but the 
Austrian footpads insist on their share of the 
spoil, and go halves with the priestly tax- 
gatherers, the Friar Tuck of Italy. Can this 
atrocious farce go on in the eyes of civilized 
mankind ? No ; by the God of justice ! The 
end is at hand. The doom of the house of 
Hapsburg and of the popedom hastens to its 
final catastrophe, with swift and precipitate 
audacity. Broken and bankrupt both, they 
have both outlived the means of their respective 
livelihood ; and as they were equally lovely in 
their lives, so in their death they shall not be 
divided. The crash is inevitable. The whole 
human race is preparing to clap hands on their 
joint and associated downfall. Hear ye not 
the ill-suppressed throes of their agony, and the 
death-rattle in their throats? Are not the 
symptoms of their dissolution, the moribund 
groan of their decrepid senility, visible and 
audible to mankind I The funeral toll of St. 



FATHEK GAVAZZI. 347 

Stephen's belfry is re-echoed by every steeple 
in broad Bohemia, in Hungary, in the cathedral 
of Lombardy ; and the great bell of the Capitol 
begins to swing in sympathetic vibration. 
Bayonets and bankruptcy, bayonets and bigotry, 
the changes have been rung to the disgust and 
abhorrence of the whole family of man. 
Prussia, for very shame, must shake off the 
pestilent connexion ; even Turkey, tired of 
being the common gaoler of Christendom, 
asserts the higher manliness of Mahometanism, 
and taunts us with the lost glories of Godfrey, 
and lion-hearted Richard. Free and independent 
America had, by the majestic organ of Daniel 
Webster, expressed the full scorn of the 
Western hemisphere for that wretched Russian 
flunkey, Joseph of Hapsburg, the Romulus 
Augustus of the holy Roman empire. To 
live and reign by the grace of God and Cos- 
sacks, is a contemptible line of livelihood, but 
the kindred existence of the popedom is reduced 
to expedients of still more despicable turpitude. 
The quackeries of miraculous imposture are the 
fitting concomitants and appliances of a system 
of which the rotten crutches are the crampulous 
Franzoni in Turin, the traitor Marlliey in 



o45 FATHER GAVAZZT. 

Switzerland, and (that transparent Tartuffe) 
Montalembert, in France." 

The cheers elicited by these eloquent sentences 
were tremendous ; and when Father Gavazzi 
wound up with the following eloquent perora- 
tion, the excitement of the audience amounted 
to enthusiasm : — 

" The French are incapable of a serious 
emotion, or they would feel the importance to 
England of the present movement, worthy of the 
great and thoughtful nation in which it occurs, 
and caused by no trivial alarm. Let France 
look to her own condition ; by what insidious 
arts and persevering craft has she not been 
dragged down from her social position to be a 
mere instrument of papal tyranny abroad, with 
a ' Roman expedition a Vinterieur* in full 
progress at home." Here began a splendid 
and highly poetical description of the great 
Norwegian whirpool called the Maelstrom, 
" buoyant on whose circling eddies the ship of 
France was very visible, though every hour 
sucked close and closer into the central vortex, 
where it was doomed to be engulphed and to 
disappear. Such was its present position with 
reference to the Papacy. Was not the British 
vessel, sailing beyond the influence of this 



FATHER GAVAZZI. 349 

dreadful phenomenon, warranted in crowding 
all sail to keep still farther aloof from the focus 
of destruction ? England sees the degradation 
of its neighbour, sees the operation of priest- 
craft, and sniffs the pestilential odour of the 
Vatican in the breeze that is wafted o'er the 
Channel. 

" England instinctively feels that these 
foreign bishops bode no good either to her 
spiritual or temporal concerns. They come in 
flagrant violation or evasion of British laws : 
they enter not at the door, but, robber-wise, 
by the window — emissaries of a power which, 
like the 'old man of the mountain,' whose 
name is given to assassins, sends forth its 
satellities, if not to poignard kings, certainly 
to strangle the liberty of nations that are free ; 
to act as a remora to the onward march of 
civilization ; a clog to progress ; a drag on the 
social wheel in its joyous gyrations. Discord 
has already been the first result ; blood has 
been shed at Birkenhead. What heeds the 
court of Rome the social evil of her handi- 
work ? She seeks the pomp and pride of her 
delegates, reckless of consequences to the land 
they invade. Wherever there is wealth to 
gain, whether from the imbecility of her vo- 



350 FATHER GAVAZZI. 

taries when alive, or at the pillow of dying 
opulence, her agents are at hand — speculators 
when they are not spies. Men of England, 
bless your Queen for repelling, in the face of 
Europe, these skirmishers of the forlorn hope 
of a foreign power . v 

So ended the lecture, leaving the auditory 
to wonder how such a mind as Father 
Gavazzi's should have been imprisoned an in- 
stant in the Romanist Church. May he 
speedily break from its bondage, employ his 
genius in a sphere where men love the light 
of Christianity, and shun error's gloom ! 



F 1 X I §. 



J. S. Pratt, Stokesley, Yorkshire. 



Just Pullished, Handsomely hound in Cloth, 5s. 

THE HISTORY 



OF 



MODERN EUROPE, 



FROM THE 



COMMENCEMENT OF THE 16TH CENTTIRY 
TO THE TEAR 1850. 



CONTEXTS : 

Crap. I. View of the State of Europe to the 16th century. 

II. Europe from the commencement of the 16th century to the Peace of 

Chateau Cambresisin 1559. 
III. Europe from the accession of the Emperor Ferdinand, 1556, to the 

death of Henry IV. of France, 1610. 
IV, England during the reigns of James I and Charles I. 
V. Europe from the death of Henry IV. of France to the Pyreneau 

Treaty, 1659. 
VI. England during the Commonwealth and reign of Charles II. 
VII. Europe from the accession of Louis XIV. to the League of Augs- 
burg. 1686. 
VIII. Great Britain and Ireland during the reign of James II. 
IX. Europe from the League of Augsburg to the Conferences held a 

Gertruydenberg, 1710. 
X. Europe from the Conferences at Gertruydenberg to the Treaty of 

Dresden, 1745. 
XI. From the Scottish Rebellion, 1745, to the death of George II, 1760. 
XII. From the accession of George III. to the Treaty between Russia and 

Turkey, 1791. 
XIII. The French Revolution. 

XIV. Europe from 1793 to the Treaty of Amiens, 1802, 
XV. Europe from the Peace of Amiens to the Treaty of Tilsit, 1807. 
XVI, From the Treaty of Tilsitto the dissolution of Napoleon's marriage. 
XVII. War in Spain, 1810, to the Invasion of France by the Allies, 1S14. 
XVIII, From the Invasion of France to the Treaty of Peace, 1815. 
XIX. From the Treaty of Peace to the French Revolution, 1850* 
XX. From the French Revolution to the year 1850, 



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BRARY FOR LITTLE FOLKS, 

A SERIES OF SIXPENNY BOOKS, 
B Y A. ISA. &u C. E. SARGEANT. 



EXTRACT FROM PREFACE. 
ADDRESSED TO THE READERS OF " THE LIBRARY FOR 
LITTLE FOLKS." 

My Dear Little Friends, 

Little friends we may call you all, though there will, of course, be de- 
grees of comparison— Little, less, and least — amongst the readers of the 
■« Library for Little Folks." Some will have attained the important ages of 
eleven or twelve, and they must have food for the mind befitting that age; 
others will have arrived at eight, nine, and ten. But many who are not more 
than six or seven will, we hope, be learned enough to read some of the books in 
this " Library," and to suit such, some will be printed in large letters. 

The " Library" will contain amusing stories, pleasant conversations on a 
great many interesting and instructive subjects— mostly on the wonderful things 
in Nature ; and now and then a History of some well-known person : you know, 
I suppose, such Histories are called Biography. This sort of reading you will 
find quite as amusing, and a great deal more useful, than books about Giants and 
Fairies, and wild adventures. Every book we read ought to make us wiser and 
better, and it need not be dull or dry because it is intended to do so. 

Should you learn something that is good from every little book, you will 
of course be at the end of the year a great deal wiser and better than you are 
now; and then you will have cause to be glad that you laid out your money in 
buying " The Library for Little Folks." 

NEW YEAR'SNIGHT and PAPA'S BIRTH-DAY. 

THE STEP-MOTHER; or, THE BERESFORD FAMILY. 

MARY and MINNIE; or, THE LITTLE GIRLS' QUESTIONS. 

ACTIVE KIND NESS ; or, THE LITTLE NAIL-MAKER, UNCLE JOHN'S 

PARTY, and THE ITALIAN BOY. 
THE BLUE SILK FROCK; or, CELIA'S VISIT. 
WALKS WITH MAMMA. 

THE GOOD PASTOR; or, THE LIFE OF JOHN FREDERIC OBERLINs 
FANNY WOODBORNE; or, THE PEARL-STRINGER. 
MAMMA'S STORIES. 

THE LIFE OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 
STORIES FOR BOYS. 

glso at Sixpence ead), 

THE BOOK OF ANIMALS, with cuts, j THE BOOK OF BIRDS, with cuts. 
BLIND ALICE ; or, Do Right, if you wish to be Happy. 
JESSIE GRAHAM; or, Friends dear, but Truth dearer, 
FLORENCE ARNOTT ; or, Is she Generous? 
GRACE AND CLARA; or, Be Just as well as Generous. 
THE COUSINS AT WOODVILLE ; or, Disobedience Punished. 
LEONORE PERCY; or, The Deserted Daughter. 
The WHITEHOUSE FAMILY, by Lily May. 
ELFIE WASTROM, by ditto. 
OLDCASTLE GLEBE ; or, Truth and Falsehood. 

LONDON : PARTRIDGE & OAKEY, 34, PATERNOSTER ROW. 

And may he had of all Booksellers. 



NEW WORKS BY ANNE MARIA SARGEANT. 
THE HOLLY- WREATH; 

A PLEASANT COMPANION FOR A LEISURE HOUR. 

Elegantly hound and Gilt, with several Engravings, "price 2s. 6d. 



Handsomely hound in Cloth, price One Shilling, 

TALES OF LONDON LIFE. 
CONTENTS: 

'Introduction." " The Crimson Damask Window Curtains." " Be Just before 

Ycu are Generous." " The Patroness." " The Artist's Daughter." 

'* ' Fortune Seekers and Fortune Makers-" ■ ' Just too Late." 



Also, price One Shilling, 

TALES FOB MY OWN SEX. 
CONTENTS, 

"Introduction." " Home Duties." '« The Blue Slocking.' "The 

Whisperer." " A Lesson for Wives." " Cousin Annette." 

** The Ball Dresses." 



Handsomely hound and Gilt, with numerous Illustrations, price Is. 6d. 

FIRESIDE LESSONS ON THE NATURAL 
HISTORY OF THE BIBLE, 

IN SIMPLE AND FAMILIAR CONVERSATION. 

A BOOK FOR M OTHERS; 

OR, 

BIOGRAPHIC SKETCHES OF THE MOTHERS OF GREAT AND 
GOOD MEN. 

BY C. E. SARGEANT. 

Neatly hound, price One Shilling* 



LONDON : PARTRIDGE & OAKEY, 34, PATERNOSTER ROW, 

And may be had of all Booksellers. 



JUST PUBLISHED, 

Post Octavo, cloth, price Fire Shillings, 

SKETCHES OF INDIA; 

illustrated toitlj a rjantrsome bteto of £omtiaij. 
By H. Mosfs, Esq., M.D. 

Neatly bound, Cloth, One Shilling cy Sixpence, 

PICTURES 

OF THE 

LIVING AUTHORS OF BRITAIN. 



CONTEXTS : 

Tennyson, Macaulay, Browning, Taylor, Dickens, Home, Carlyle, 

Mackay, Forster, Marston, Bailey, Mrs. Jameson, Miss Barrett, 

Bulwer Lytton, Douglas Jerrold, &c. 



Post Octavo, cloth, price Three Shillings fy Sixpence, 
EXTRACTS FROM 

THE DUET OF A LITIXG PHYSICIAK 

Edited by L. F. C. 

CONTENTS : — The Broken Vow — The Incurable— The Betrayer— The 

Separation — The Wanderer — The Substitute— The beginning and 

end of Intemperance — The Monomaniac — The last 

Admonition — The Poacher's Story -The 

Soldier's Death Bed. 



LONDON : PARTRIDGE AND OAKEY. PATERNOSTER ROAV. 

And may be had of all Bookseller*. 



PUBLISHED BY PARTRIDGE AND OAKET, LONDON : 

And may be had of all Booksellers. 



POPULAR HISTORY OF IRELAND, from the 
earliest period to the present time : by tbe Rev. R. 
Stewart, M.A., author of the u History of Modern 
Europe." Cloth, 3s. 

THE HISTORY OF FEUDALISM, by A. Bell. 
Cloth, 3s. 

A VISIT TO CONSTANTINOPLE AND ATHENS, 
by the Rev. W. Colton. Cloth, Is. tid. 

DECK AND PORT; or Incidents of a Cruise to 
California ; with Sketches of Rio de Janeiro, Val- 
paraiso, Lima, Honolulu, and San Francisco, by 
ditto, handsomely bound in cloth, 3s. 

POPULAR GEOGRAPHY ; or, a General Descrip- 
tion of the Five Great Divisions of the Globe — 
Europe, Africa, Asia, America, and Oceanica ; with 
their several Empires, States, and Territories : and 
the Physical Peculiarities, Productions, Commerce, 
Religion, Government, &c, of the various Countries 
in the World, by G. Grant. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

A DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 
by Samuel Johnson, LL.D. With the Grammar of 
the English Tongue, and several thousand additional 
Words, Ss. 6d. 



SELECT LIST OF BOOKS. 

THE ORATORS OF FRANCE, by Timon, (Viscount 
de Cormenin.) Translated from the loth Paris 
Edition ; with an Introductory Essay. By T. J. 
Headley. Cloth, 1.?. 6d. 

SKETCHES OF REFORMS AND REFORMERS 
OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND ; by 
Henry B. Stanton. Cloth, 1*. 6d. 

KINGS AND QUEENS ; or, Life in the Palace : 
consisting of Historical Sketches of Josephine and 
Maria Louisa ; Louis Philippe, Ferdinand of Austria, 
Nicholas, Isabella II., Leopold, and Victoria. By 
John S. C. Abbott. Cloth, U 6d, 

LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, First President 
of France : including a Visit to the Prince at the 
Castle of Ham. By Henry Wickoff. To which is 
added, an Account of the French Revolution of 1848 : 
Also an Appendix, containing Poetical and Prose 
Writings of Louis Napoleon. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

LOITERINGS IN EUROPE; or, Sketches of Travel 
in France, Belgium, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, 
Prussia, Great Britain, and Ireland. With an 
Appendix, containing Observations on European 
Charities and Medical Institutions. By John W. 
Corson, M.D. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

A COMPREHENSIVE HISTORY OF LONDON, 

from the Earliest Period to the Present Time ; com- 
prising the Rise and Progress of the Metropolis. 
Cloth, Is. Gd. 



SELECT LIST OF BOOKS, 

SELF-RELIANCE ; a Book for Young Men ; being Bio- 
graphic Sketches of Men who have risen to Independ- 
ence and Usefulness, by Perseverance and Energy : 
by the Author of '< A Book for Mothers.'' Is. 6d. 
CONTENTS :— Sir Humphrey Davy— William Allen— William 
Hutton — Thomas Scott — William GifFord — Sir William Herschel 
— Miners, Brothers — Alexander Murray — Benjamin West — 
James Brindley — James Ferguson, etc. 

WOMAN'S MISSION; or, Letters to a Sister, by W. 
A. Ailcott. Full gilt, 3*. 

PRAISE AND PRINCIPLE; or, For what shall I 
Live? Cloth, 3s. 

SHAMROCK LEAVES: Tales and Sketches of Ireland, 
by Mrs. Hoare; handsomely gilt and illustrated, 25. 6d. 

LIFE AT HOME AND ABROAD ; an Autobiography, 
by January Searle. Cloth, Is, 

THE COUNTRY SKETCH BOOK of Pastoral Scenes 
and Remarkable Places, by ditto. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

CHAPTERS IN THE HISTORY OF A LIFE, by 
ditto. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

LEAVES FROM SHERWOOD FOREST, by ditto, 1#. 

A TOUR THROUGH ARMENIA, KURDISTAN, 
PERSIA, AND MESOPOTAMIA, by the Rev. 

H. Southgate. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS ; a most 
handsome Volume : illustrated with one hundred and 
fifty beautiful Cuts, Demy 8vo., 7*. 6d, 



SELECT LIST OF BOuKS. 

D'AUBIGNE AND HIS WRITINGS; with a Sketch 
of the life of the Author. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

PROVERBS FOR THE PEOPLE ; or Illustrations 
of Practical Godliness drawn from the Book of 
Wisdom. By E. L. Magoon. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

THE YOUNG MAIDEN; Her Moral and Domestic 
Duties; handsomely bound in clrth, gilt, Is. 6d. 

THE MORNING OF LIFE; or, Thoughts for the 
Young Christian : by a Clergyman's Daughter. Is. 

THE LIFE, LETTERS, AND EXPERIENCE OF 
MRS. HESTER A. ROGERS. Full gilt, Is. 

AUNT FANNY'S STORY BOOK FOR BOYS 

AND GIRLS. Gilt edges, Is. 6d. 

RAINBOWS FOR CHILDREN. By Mrs. Child; 
beautifully gilt and illustrated, 2s. 

THE BOY'S AND GIRL'S OWN BOOK. By Peter 
Parley ; beautifully bound and illustrated, 2s. Qd. 

THE CHILD'S OWN STORY BOOK. By Lily 
May ; handsomely bound and illustrated, 2s. 6d. 

LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON 

CRUSOE, with cuts, Is. 6d. 

THE NEW JUVENILE SCRAP BOOK, ditto, Is. 6d, 

THE YOUTH'S STORY-TELLER, with cuts, Is. 6d. 

STORIES FOR YOUNG PERSONS, by 3Iiss 
Sedgwick, Is. 6 J. 

WONDERS IN NATURE AND ART; with nu- 
mcrous cuts : gilt, 3s. 



PUBLISHED BY PABIRIDGE AND OAKEY, LO.XDOX: 
And may be had of all Booksellers. 

The Lamps of the Temple : Shadows from the Lights of the 

Modem Pulpit. Cloth, 35. 6d. 
contexts : — The Pulpit and the Age — The Revs. Thomas Biuney — 

Henry Melville, B.D. — Dr. Edward Andrews — Dr. Richard 

Winter Hamilton — James Parsons — Alfred J. Morris — Dr. 

Robert Newton — Dr. Joseph E. Beaumont — Benjamin Parsons 

— Dr. John. Cumming — John Pulsford — George Dawson, M.A. 

— The Welch Pulpit.— Concluding Summary. 
Memoirs of William Wordsworth, compiled from authentic sources ; 

with numerous quotations from his Poems, illustrative of his 

Life and Character : by January Searle. 35. 
Christian Souvenir; beautifully illustrated, and elegantly bound, 

gilt edges. 35. 
The Keepsake ; beautifully bound, and illustrated, 35. 
The New Entertaining Naturalist : illustrated with numerous cuts, 

handsomely bound, gilt edges, 35. 
The History of Modern Europe, from the commencement of the 

16th Century to the year 1850. Cloth, 5s. 
Popular History of Ireland, from the earliest period to the present 

time : by the Rev. R. Stewart, M.A., author of the "History 

of Modern Europe." Cloth, 3s. 
Historical Sketches of Feudalism, British and Continental : with 
numerous notices of the doings of the Feudalry in all ages and 
Countries. By Andrew Bell, 35. 
Deck and Port ; or, Incidents of a Cruise to California ; with 

Sketches of Rio de Janeiro, Valparaiso, Lima, Honolulu, and 

San Francisco, by Colton, handsomely bound in Cloth, 35. 
Rhyme, Romance and Revery : by John Bolton Rogerson. Hand- 
somely bound ; coloured frontispiece, 35. 
Shamrock Leaves : Tales and Sketches of Ireland. Full gilt 2s. 6d. 



A SELECT LIST OF BOOKS. 

Pen and Ink Sketches of Authors and Authoresses. By the author 
of " Pen Pictures of Popular English Preachers." Cloth, Is. 6d. 

contents : — Reminiscences of William Wordsworth — A Visit to 
Mary Russel Mitford — A Literary Breakfast witji Dwarkanauth 
Tagore, Maeaulay, D' Israeli, Sir Henry Ellis, and John 
Britton — A Visit to John Clare — A Recollection of the Rev. 
Sidney Smith — An Svening with Robert Southey — A Day 
with Hannah More — A Morning Party at Samuel Rogers", 
including Coleridge, Leigh Hunt, Thomas Miller, Theodore 
Hook, Ainswortk, Cruikshank, Sharon Turner, Barry Cora- 
wall, Allan Cimningham, "Warren, James, &c. &c. — James 
Montgomery and Ebenezer Elliott — Eliza Cook — William 
Thorn, the Weaver Poet of Inverury — American Writers : 
1>T. P. Willis, &c, &c. 

The Life of Thomas Chatterton, by ditto. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

John Milton : the Patriot Poet. Illustrations of the Model Man. 
by Edwin Paxton Hood. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

The Literature of Labour ; illustrious Instances of the Education of 
Poetry in Poverty, by ditto. A new and enlarged edition, 
dedicated to Professor Wilson. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

The Dark Days of Queen Mary, by ditto. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

The Good Old Times of Queen Bess, by ditto. Cloth, is. 6d. 

Self -Education ; twelve chapters for young thinkers, by ditto, 
Cloth, Is. 6d. 

Genius and Industry ; the Achievements of Mind among the 
Cottages, by ditto. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

Old England : Scenes from Life, in the Hall and the Hamlet, by 
the Forest and Fireside, by ditto. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

The Mental and Moral Philosophy of Laughter : A Vista of the 
Ludicrous Side of Life, by ditto. Cloth, Is. 6d, 

The Uses of Biography : Romantic, Philosophic, and Didactic, Is. 6d, 

Fragments of Thought and Composition, by ditto. Cloth. Is. &4 

Pictures of the Living Authors of Britain. Cloth, Is. Gd. 

Shakspere : his Times and Contemporaries. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

Wonders in Xature and Art ; with numerous cuts : gilt. 3s, 



A SELECT LIST OF BOOKS. 

Self-Reliance ; a Book for Young Men ; being Biographic Sketches 
of Men who have risen to Independence and Usefulness, by 
Perseverance and Energy. By the Author of ' ' A Book for 
Mothers." Cloth, 1*. 6ch 

contents : — Sir Humphrey Davy — William Allen — "William Hutton 
— Thomas Scott — William Gifford — Sir William Herschel — 
Min ers, Brothers — Alexander Murray — Benjamin West — James 
Brindley — James Ferguson. 

The Life, Character, and Genius of Ebenezer Elliott, the Com Law 
Rhymer, by January Searle. Cloth, Is. 

The Country Sketch Book of Pastoral Scenes and Remarkable 
Places, by ditto, Cloth, Is. 6d. 

Life at Home and Abroad ; an Autobiography, by ditto, Cloth, Is. 

Leaves from Sherwood Forest, by ditto, Is, 

The Poetic Rosary : by J. Critchley Prince. Dedicated by per- 
mission to Charles Dickens, Esq. Handsomely gilt, 2s. 6d. 

The Holly Wreath ; handsomely bound and illustrated. Is. Qd. 

Emma Clifford; or, True and False Profession. Cloth, 3s. 

Praise and Principle ; or, For what shall I live ? Cloth, 3s. 

Woman's Mission ; or, Letters to a Sister : by W. A. Allcott, 
Full gilt, 3s. 

Hours with the Muses, by J. Critchley Prince. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

Dreams and Realities, by ditto. Cloth, Is. 6d. 

Rainbows for Children ; by Mrs. Child. Gilt and illustrated, 2s. 

Aunt Fanny's Story Book for Boys and Girls. Gilt edges, Is. 6d, 

The Boy's and Girl's Own Book. By Peter Parley ; beautifully 
bound and illustrated, 2s. 6d. 

The Child's Own Story Book : illustrated, full gilt, 2s. 6d. 

Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, with cuts, Is. 6d, 

The New Juvenile Scrap Book, ditto. Is. 6d. 

The Youth's Story-Teller, with cuts. Is. 6d. 

:>ries for Young Persons, by Mis3 Sedgwick. Is. 6c?. 

xiie Arabian Nights' Entertainments ; a handsome Volume : 
illustrated with one hundred and fifty beautiful Cuts, Demy 
8vq,, 7s. Qd. 



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